


this is heaven in hiding

by hemakeshimstrongx



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst, Drinking, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, First Time, Harry Styles Has a Crush on Louis Tomlinson, Harry is the child of gods, Harry styles doesn't know what he's doing, I don't know, Louis tomlinson falls in love with him anyway, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Miscommunication, Not that much crying i guess, Talking, i literally don't know what to tag, louis is mortal, louis teaches harry a lot, mentioned vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: Harry is destined to sit on a throne. Louis makes him want to throw it all away.Or: Harry embarks on the greatest journey of his life. Louis is there every step of the way.





	this is heaven in hiding

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i got inspired to write this after seeing harry wearing that gold crown in those gucci pictures. this was not supposed to be this long or this intensive, but once i started i couldn't stop. the crown really makes like... four appearances throughout the whole fic but it plays a Big Part.   
> i'm still kind of half-editing this. also, all the quotes scattered throughout the story are either from "Circe" or "The Song of Achilles" by Madeline Miller, since from both her works are where I drew a lot of information/inspiration for this fic :) 
> 
> please be gentle with this fic it's my baby. i love her.

_we cannot say_  
_who will survive_  
 _the holocaust of_  
 _memory_

Harry never really felt like he fit in. His mother, the elegant, talented, kind, Calliope, always seemed like she was to difficult for Harry to reach. She loved him, of course she did, but Harry never felt like he would ever be able to do enough to live up to the image of him that she wants. She wants him to be great, is convinced that his prophecy (to undertake the biggest burden of all: to conquer the most difficult boundaries for a love all would envy) is going to send him straight to the seat of a God. Calliope wants this prophecy to reign true, wants it so badly she’s constantly conjuring up Hermes to see what news he can stir up. Wants it so badly she’s constantly telling Harry long stories of her relationship with his father — the God Apollo.

The problem with her tellings of these stories is that she tells them like a woman scorned. She tells them like a woman who has given her all for a God only to be banished by him, like a woman who spends her days crafting the stars to make up for the ones she stole for him and he stole from her. She tells them like a woman who was abandoned by her lover, leaving her with child. She tells the stories of Apollo and the other Gods with hatred, with redemption, with revenge in her eyes.

She tells these stories like they will make Harry want to be a God. They do the complete opposite.

Harry’s seen Olympus. Harry’s lived a thousand lives up here, has seen the rise and fall of countless gods and figures. Has heard the tales of his grandfather and the war between the gods and the titans. Has heard of male demigods becoming gods themselves, has heard of how they get to bathe in riches and women.

None of that seems to appeal to Harry.

He spends his time doing other things, not focused on battle training or wooing women or anything his mother would want. No, Harry’s fascinated by one thing only, and it’s not the gold or the mysterious creatures or the love his mother expects him to find on Olympus; it’s the mortals. The people on earth. He’s watched them for ages, watched so many of them be born and die while he remains ever-youthful. Liam, who happens to be the son of Hermes (him and Harry only became friends because of how often Calliope summoned Hermes), tells Harry that he appears to be about twenty-four.

Liam would know a lot about mortal ages, he goes there a lot with his father. Harry doesn’t know much about mortal ages, but he feels like twenty-four is a good age to be. It doesn’t sound very old, which Harry _does_ know slows mortals down.

Harry’s absolutely enchanted by the mortals that wander Earth. He wants nothing more than to be there with him. When they were younger, Harry would ask Liam question after question after question about what it was like down there; the sounds, the scents, the sights. Harry’s seen them in every single one of his dreams since he was a child.

Of course, he is terrified to tell Calliope of this. She would never condone Harry’s desires; his unrelenting want to venture out with the mortals.

********

“Harry, I need you, let me get this crown on you, I think it will look absolutely beautiful.” Calliope calls. Her voice echoes off the walls and even if Harry tried to, there was no way he could ignore it. Calliope radiates beauty, radiates song, she makes it nearly impossible to resist even her simplest words.

He carries himself down to his mother’s chambers, always at her beck and call. “Yes, Mother?”

“I have received this crown from your father. Another… pity gift, of sorts, I suppose. I found it too delicate for my liking, but I would love to see how it looks on you. Come, have a seat here.”

Harry sits, cross legged, at the end of his mother’s bed as she comes up behind him. “Apollo sent you another gift?”

“Recently he has been feeling poorly about the horror he put me through _so_ long ago. I try not to complain about it, free gifts from Apollo, any other woman would be honored.”

“But not you?” Harry asks, genuinely curious despite already somewhat knowing why his Mother is never particularly pleased with Apollo’s stunts. She does not believe the gifts can undo the damage he did.

Calliope sighs, tucking a strand of Harry’s hair behind his ear. “Your father is… well, as you know, he is a God. I have told you all of his triumphs and all of his failures. I am not ashamed of what I had with him. Only ashamed of what I let him do to me. I do not want him to think that he can make up for his mistakes with lavish gifts. But I cannot turn down a gift from the God Apollo.”

“Of course you cannot.” Harry echoes. His mother sighs, grabbing her son’s face in her hands. “But why are you giving this one to me?”

“Because, my love, I feel as though it fits you. Too delicate for me. Perfect for you.” Calliope says, sighing again. “Have a look.”

She takes him by the hand and leads him over to her vanity. Harry looks at the golden wreath perched on his head and thinks, _this is how she wants me to look, this is who she wants me to be._ And he likes the way the crown looks on him, he really does, but he doesn’t think he can wear this look all the time.

“Absolutely divine, my love. Like you were made to wear this crown and sit upon Olympus. Right beside Zeus and Ares and your father.” Calliope muses, beautiful smile on her face. “I want you to wear this to supper tonight, would you?”

“Of course, Mother. Will father be angry to find that I am wearing it and not you?”

“Well, if he is, I suppose he will have to take that up with me. And he would never risk causing such a petty disturbance amongst his brothers. He will not come for you.”

Harry doesn’t feel too sure about that. He wouldn’t put it past Apollo to cause a scene at dinner, regardless of who is around. The Gods have seen him at his worst. Apollo would not flinch in scolding his son and his ex-lover in front of the Gods over a piece of crown jewelry. But Harry will wear the gold headpiece anyway, because his mother asked him to and Harry is still not sure of how to tell her no. Ages of being around her and Harry is not sure how to tell her no.

Supper is full of drunk gods and flirtatious offspring. Harry never really got the appeal of that; Calliope would tell him tales of the Gods having affairs with each other. How, if he wanted to, a romance with his cousin or even one of Calliope’s other, divine children wouldn’t be wrong. Harry can never bring himself to do that.

Liam told him once that in the real world, with the mortals, they frown upon that, it even has a word that hasn’t quite stuck in Harry’s brain yet. Ever since he learned that, Harry hasn’t felt too keen on having sex with one of his relatives. He hasn’t told Calliope that.

Apollo stares Harry down, he swears he can feel those godly eyes burning into him. Harry thinks — _knows_ — it must be about the crown on his head. The one that was intended for Calliope, a goddess, one that was intended as an apology gift decades too late, one that was not intended to rest upon Harry’s head. _Harry’s_ head, the bastard child of the god of the sun and the goddess of eloquence and poetry. _Harry’s_ head, a boy who should be a god by now but still hasn’t fulfilled his prophecy because he’s not even sure what it means.

Ares, Zeus, Apollo, Harry, and his Mother remain sitting at the table. Everyone has broken off, as they often do, into their godly cliques for gossip and chatter and maybe (probably) sex at the end of the night.

Harry feels so out of place it’s driving him mad. But he sits there, endures

listening to the conversation between his mother and his grandfather and his uncles. “I take it you did not like my latest treasure?” Apollo says to Calliope, but pointedly looks at Harry.

“Just because I do not wear it does not mean I do not like it,” Calliope says, chin upturned toward Apollo. “I have given it to our son. Is that not an acceptable choice for me to make?”

Apollo, in all his godlike glory, shrugs his shoulders. “I thought you would wear it yourself. The finest golds for one of the finest muses.”

 _"The_ finest muse. A Goddess.” Calliope corrects, boldly.

“The crown is fit for you, not for a son who is at your constant beck and call and has yet to fill his own prophecy.” Apollo spits. Harry swears he’s going to flare up, overtake the room. “You never have respect for the things I do for you.”

“I do not understand why you are so pressed over a simple gift. I have  given it to my beautiful son to wear.”

Apollo turns to Harry again. “What is your prophecy, again?”

“I am supposed to go on a lengthy journey and overcome boundaries for a love that all will envy.” Harry replies. “I have yet to find it.”

“Do you even want to fulfill your prophecy, Harry? Most boys your age are already destined for the greatness of their fathers. Do you not want the same greatness as your father? The same beauty as your mother?” Ares interjects, earning a cold, hard look from Calliope. Calliope resents him, ever since their love affair and the way he treated her.

“Of course he want to fulfill his prophecy.” Calliope answers for Harry, looking between her son and Ares. “But it is none of your concern. If there is any concern to be had, it will be shared between his father and myself.”

“Well, I do have concerns.” Apollo says. Harry does not like where this conversation is going. “Harry, what do you need in order to venture off toward your prophecy? We can send you anywhere your heart desires. I know you are not the most battle-oriented, but I have seen you with a sword. You are skilled.”

“Ah, but he is no Achilles.” Ares chimes in again, big grin on his face while he takes another sip of his drink.

“I reckon there is no one like Achilles. Patroclus was the closest we ever got, I would say.” Harry replies.

Ares is the only one at the table who tenses up with the mention of the temptatious love affair between Achilles and Patroclus. Harry learned all about it, watched it unfold, was absolutely fascinated by it. Admired it. Thought that _that_ was the kind of love his prophecy foretold for him but he still had no idea how to get it.

“As I was saying,” Apollo says pointedly, “you are not the most battle-oriented but that does not mean you cannot go off. I can send you anywhere, son, and we’ll find out what happens with your prophecy.”

“Anywhere? You can send me anywhere?” Harry asks. He’s thinking that he’ll do this now, _now_ is his chance to get what he wants.

“I mean.” Apollo pauses, looking at Harry somewhat confusedly. “Yes, I suppose so. Why, have you somewhere specific in mind?”

Harry figures now is as good a time as any. He lays all his cards on the table in front of his mother, his father, uncle, and ever-stoic grandfather. “I would like to be with the people. Mortals.”

Ares, Apollo, and Calliope all share a glance. Then Ares and Apollo burst out laughing. “If you think your prophecy lies with the mortals, you are terribly mistaken. I don’t know what kind of stories your mother has told you–“

“Mother has told me no stories of mortals. We do not speak of anything other than Olympus and my prophecy.”

“This is true. Apollo, wherever he found these delusions, he did not find them from me.” Calliope says confidently. Ares and Apollo are still laughing. Zeus remains straight faced.

“What do you think is waiting for you on earth, Harry?” Ares asks, still suppressing laughter. A God’s laugh shakes the room, and normally Harry bathes in it. But not now.

“An adventure. I have not come any closer to my prophecy here. I would like to try to live amongst the mortals. Fighting is not my skill. I have not been promised to any wars, so I will not be surprised like Achilles nor Patroclus, like so many other divine children have been. I wish to venture out. Live with the mortals. Perhaps my prophecy is there.”

“You have not been promised to any wars because you–“ Apollo starts, angrily, until Calliope interjects.

“Apollo, enough.” she says sharply. He shuts up immediately. “Father, what do you think about all this?”

Zeus grunts, his first peep since dinner had cleared. “It sounds as though the child has thought this through. He has made up his mind. He has been up here for decades but has not been enthralled by Olympus for a long while, as much as that hurts to admit. I do not see why you should not send him to live among the mortals for some time.”

Calliope and Apollo – and even Ares – all fall silent. “Ah, now three of my most talkative have fallen silent. Harry, you really wish to live there?”

“Yes, grandfather. I would like to learn how they live. What it is like.”

“Calliope, this time when you call Hermes it will be for a _real_ favor. He will teach Harry all he can about his destination with the mortals. Before he goes, along with Apollo and Harry, you will come to my chambers and we will discuss the terms of this arrangement. Apollo, after your seventh sunset, we will have this discussion.” Zeus says decidedly. “If any of you have any objections, I do not wish to hear you now. Harry, this is what happens when two gods act like children. Their decisions get made for them. Let that be your first lesson: as a mortal, always be ready to make decisions.”

_that is one thing gods_   
_and mortals share. when_   
_we are young, we think_   
_ourselves the first to have_   
_each feeling in the world._

Hermes teaches everything he knows about the place Calliope has chosen to send Harry: London. She says that it’s alive with people and things to so, and if he ever wanted to visit Paris (for the art), all he had to do was ask. Harry thinks she really wanted to send him to Paris, but _somebody_ else overruled.

Hermes teaches Harry how they talk (with _accents_ , Harry is fascinated), about the general human customs he’s witnessed for all these years but never had to use, about technology Harry’s watched develop and only become seemingly more complicated.

Liam handles the less-serious matters of being a Person. He tells Harry about social media, which people use on their technological phones. He tells Harry that if he ever ends up at a bar, he can drink all the liquor he wants and he won’t really get drunk; that’s a product of being a god. He warns Harry about sex with mortals, which is a painful conversation.

Finally, after seven days and six nights of preparation, Apollo, Calliope, and Harry are summoned to Zeus’ chambers.

“Harry, do you feel adequately prepared?” He asks immediately.

“Yes, grandfather. I have been educated and tested and I feel ready.”

“Calliope, you may visit him whenever you choose. Harry is being deposited in a small place of residence in London, shared by one familiar face that will… keep him in line. You may show up there, as often as you would like, but only at night.”

“Can I call for her to come?”

“Of course. Your minds are still linked. She will know when you want her.”

“Will I be able to read other minds while I am with the people?”

“Most likely not,” Apollo answers, voice sounding uncharastically cold. “That would be rare. Can I visit him?”

“Hm. Did not think you would have any interest in doing so, Apollo.” Zeus says, looking kind of amused. “You can, whenever you please, so long as you look as mortal as possible.”

Even then, Harry knows it would be hard to think Apollo _isn’t_ a God. He’d be beautiful, almost radiating, he would turn heads and people would think _wow, that man looks godly._ But the thoughts don’t mean anything, of course, as long as nobody knows the truth.

“When can I go?” Harry asks.

“Tomorrow. You will be thrown into a life, but will not have a… _job_. Should you come to want one, you are on your own.”

“You mentioned he would have a… familiar face?” Calliope says, looking a bit confused. “There, in London, with him?”

Zeus nods. “Yes. A friend, someone who understands him and where he has come from. It will help his cover. And make the transition easier.”

“Alright. Harry, I suppose you are off to London next time your father’s riding the sky.” Calliope sighs, standing up and smoothing the front of her dress. “Come along, lets get you ready.”

 

Harry follows his mother out and down to her chambers. “Living with the mortals will be vastly different than living here. Are you sure you are prepared for it?”

“Yes, Mother.” Harry replies.

“You bring this,” she holds out the gold crown she made Harry wear to supper the other night. “So you do not forget where you came from.”

“I could never. And I— I will be back.”

Calliope smiles sadly. “You might. But I have a feeling you will love it with them. As much as I have wanted it to be, I do not think Olympus was enough for you. I cannot figure out why, but I am trying not to be heartbroken about it.”

“I do not mean to break your heart, Mother.” Harry says, frowning.

“Oh, you never truly could. This place is the only thing that can truly break my heart, and I see it breaking yours. Seeing what it is like for mortals will be good for you, I believe. They are not like us, and I think you will like that. But do not trust them blindly, Harry. Humans and Gods are different in a lot of ways, but they are similar in the way they deceive.”

“Who do you think they are sending to be my… guide?” Harry asks.

Calliope sighs. “Likely Liam, Hermes’ son. Hermes is always looking for ways to stick his nose in the Gods’ business, this is a perfect way to do it.”

“I like Liam.” Harry says absently, staring down at the gold crown in his hands. “If that is who I must live with, I will not complain.”

“You are always so optimistic. So kind. You were never fit for here,” his Mother has another sad smile on her face. Harry wishes this didn’t make her sad; or maybe he wishes it made _him_ more sad.

Calliope imparts some final pieces of wisdom and final memories of Olympus upon Harry before she dismisses him. Harry knows he should rest, but he can’t bring himself to. He finds himself walking around the halls he’d grown up in, for a long while after Artemis has pushed the moon into its position. He thinks about how up here nothing can touch them; how he’s watched gods turn men to pigs and watched them turn a woman into a goddess. He’s spent ages up here, that’s the only way he knows how to describe the time that has passed. Grew up quickly under the roof of the building, but eventually found himself stunting at what Liam refers to as twenty-four (Liam also theorizes that Calliope is the one responsible for stunting Harry’s aging; she wants him youthful, therefore beautiful). He’s had days pass, never really knowing how long has gone by because he never quite learned how mortals keep track of days.

Harry’s watched them torture men and gods alike; still remembers watching them torture Prometheus. He watched Achilles become the greatest warrior of his generation, only to fall in love with his companion and have everything stripped away from him. Harry remembers thinking that, even though it ended poorly, the love that Achilles had must be something like Harry’s prophecy foretells for him.

He finally forces himself to rest, even though he does not feel like he needs it.

  


Harry wakes in a bed that is not his own, in a room that does not look like Olympus. He didn’t think that one day he would just be ejected from Olympus and put in a bed in the middle of London. He gets out of the bed and looks around the room. Everything’s not as… luminescent as it is on Olympus. Everything seems ordinary. Nothing particularly special. No yelling Gods, no weeping mistresses.

Slowly, he ventures out the door and into the hallway. It’s narrow, very unlike Olympus. Harry thinks if he spoke, which he is afraid to do, it would fall flat rather than echo off the walls.

Harry gets the life scared out of him when he enters what must be a kitchen of sorts, and Liam is standing there, just like his mother predicted. “You’re awake. How are you feeling, Styles?”

“Styles?” Harry asks, giving Liam a confused look.

“Oh, right. You’re Harry _Styles._ Apollo chose the name, it’s a bit flashy.” Liam smiles. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m here.”

“Mother thought you would be the person here with me. I got my hopes up about it. I am glad I was not let down. So. What do we… do?”

Liam laughs. As Harry predicted, the sound does no bouncing off the walls, simply falls flat. “Uh, this is just about it, mate. We can talk about all this, if you want. Or, like, we could go out and about? Or… I don’t know.”

“I think I would prefer to… adjust. Take everything in. This is very different than Olympus.” Harry says. “Are you not shocked by it too?”

“I’m used to it.” Liam replies. “I’ve been here more than you have. It’s just London. It’s just people.”

“You do not find them as fascinating as I do?”

Liam shrugs. “I’ve seen them through a lot. They’re not one-dimensional. They have a lot of problems, carry a lot of weights with them. They don’t listen, they always think they’re right.”

“So they are not very different from Gods, then?” Harry muses, smiling. “Tell me more.”

“More bad things or more good things?”

“Both. That is what we will do today. You will tell me all you know.”

 

Liam gives Harry a cup of coffee, which apparently mortals enjoy drinking, but Harry doesn’t enjoy it. He doesn’t have the same incessant need to eat or drink like humans do, so it’s pointless, but Harry will make the effort regardless.

Liam tells Harry everything he’s learned about humans. Humans are all different, they all react different to certain scenarios. Harry thinks the Gods are like that too. They’re also similar to Gods in thinking; they are often blinded by either rage or lust, or sometimes a combination of them both. Liam tells him all about what they do in their everyday lives; some of them go to school, or jobs, and some people don’t do anything but sometimes those people are the most complicated.

People are complicated in general, Harry concludes, and that makes them very similar to gods. Gods are overzealous and hot-tempered and only care about themselves for the most part. Humans are often the same way. Harry’s good at dealing with Gods, so Harry thinks he’ll be good at dealing with mortals.

 

Later in the day, while his father’s light is falling lower in the sky, Liam tells Harry that they should go out.

“Out, out where?”

“Well, at night people usually go to bars. And they hang out with their friends and play pub games and they get drunk.” Liam explains, standing in front of Harry.

“But you said I cannot get drunk.” Harry frowns.

Liam laughs. “You can, if you drink enough. It’d have to be a lot. Enough that would probably kill a real person, but you’re not a real person, so you’ll be fine. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“What does one wear to a… bar?”

“Well, here they call it a pub. And you wear anything you want. I went through your closet before you woke up, there’s an alright selection of clothes.” Liam smiles at him. “I’ll help you pick something.”

An hour later, Harry is in the front seat of Liam’s vehicle, wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button up top. All of these things are extremely foreign to Harry. He watches with awe as Liam drives to this pub, explaining some of the different London-things that they pass by.

There’s music playing in this pub, nothing like Harry ever heard on Olympus. Liam names the song title and the artist, both of which mean nothing to Harry, but he appreciates the effort regardless. It’s fairly crowded, rowdy people around every turn, which is not unlike Olympus. Harry’s used to that.

“Here,” Liam says, putting a drink down on the table in front of Harry. “It’s a beer. Not much alcohol in it. Enough of it will get a person drunk, but that probably wouldn’t even work for you.”

“A beer.” Harry echoes.

“Cheers,” Liam says, big grin on his face as he holds up his glass.

“Cheers?”

“Ah, it’s this thing people do sometimes when they drink. Just tap your glass against mine and take a sip, Harry, it isn’t exactly complicated.”

Harry does as Liam says, then takes a sip from the glass. He makes a face as it goes down, and Liam laughs. “I do not like this.”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Like ambrosia, then.”

“Sure. But I do recommend you don’t talk about… _Olympus_ things while you’re here.”

“That is where I come from. Is that not what people talk about?”

“It is, but… you come from a _different_ place. A place that these people aren’t used to.” Liam explains, pausing to take a gulp from his beer. “But you’ll get the hang of all this eventually.”

“My Mother told me I would fall in love with this place. Do you think I will?”

“I think… we all watched you grow up on Olympus and never found you to be interested in any of it. The flash of it, you know? You never wanted to… sleep with siblings or go on joyrides with Zeus to all his flashy places and you never had any interest in that stupid prophecy Calliope was obsessed with.” Liam says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“So you agree with her?”

“I do.”

“Well, I am beginning to think that she is right. I was unsure, I admit, but after being here for a small fraction of time, this already feels like something I enjoy.”

Liam smiles warmly at him. “Good. Now, go up to the bar and order another drink. Tell them you’ve got a tab.”

“A tab.” Harry deadpans. “Okay, I will do that. What do I order?”

“Hmm… Order a Mai Tai.” Liam says decidedly.

“Fine.”

With confidence that he doesn’t entirely know how to wield quite yet, Harry makes his way up to the bar. “What can I get you tonight?” the man behind the bar asks.

This is Harry’s first interaction with a real, human person, he doesn’t want to blow it. “I will have a Mai Tai… please.”

The man behind the bar smiles and nods, tells Harry it’ll be ready in a moment. While he makes the drink, Harry turns and looks at his surroundings. He makes eye contact with a man across the bar, whose lips are wrapped around a thin red straw. The man’s mouth dissolves into a smirk, one not unlike Harry’s seen on the faces of many Gods, before he turns back to his friend.

“Mai Tai.” the man behind the bar says, pulling Harry back into the swing of things. “I’ll put it on your tab?”

Yes, that’s the word Liam told him to use. “Yes. Thank you.”

He takes his drink and makes his way over to Liam. “I saw a man.”

“Yes, there’s plenty of them here.”

“This one…” Harry pauses, looking over his shoulder, back toward the man he saw. “He was especially good-looking. And he was staring at me.”

Liam laughs out loud. “Try your drink, Hazza, this is a conversation you’re going to want a little liquid courage for.”

Harry takes a sip of his drink before replying to Liam’s remark. “This one is better than the last. Who is _Hazza?”_

“You. Nickname, just made it up.”

“What conversation will I want _liquid courage_ for?”

“Sex, Harry. You’ve seen it happen up there, have you not?”

“I suppose so. But what does the man from the bar have anything to do with sex?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to figure out. They call it _sexuality_ here. Gods have never really been shy about it; sex with men, sex with women, the works. And here, they happen to be very accepting of same-sex relationships.”

“I never said I wished to have same-sex relations with this man. All I told you was that he was looking at me.”

“You wouldn’t have told me anything else. Was he attractive? C’mon, point him out to me. I’ll be your wingman.”

Harry turns. “There. Beside the blonde boy in the blue shirt. If I did not know any better I would think that were Apollo himself, keeping an eye on me.”

“You could go talk to him, or I could call him over.”

“No, I do not wish to do that. I do not feel ready for intimate relations with mortals.” Harry says quickly, shaking his head.

“You could just make friends, Harry. People can do that.”

“I thought you said that all people care about is themselves and sex.”

“I probably did say that at some point. But… it’s all complicated, alright? But you’ll get the hang of it.”

********

Harry does, in fact, start to get the hang of it. During the day, while Liam is at the job he has, Harry goes out to explore. Quite a few people bump into him, because they’re looking at little brick-like devices in their hands (he learns them to be phones, thanks to Liam), which Harry finds to be quite annoying. He also finds that humans bicker quite often; whenever Harry dips into a small shop or sits on a bench for a while to drink everything in, he overhears bits of arguments between people. The Gods bicker quite often as well. Harry wonders if all people are just acting like Gods.

It’s on a Friday (Harry’s also learned the days — there’s seven of them, according to Apollo’s rise and fall of the sun) that Harry runs into the boy from the pub. He’s standing on line in a cafe, waiting for the most Olympus-sounding drink he could order that he paid for with currency Liam gave him.

“You’re the guy from the pub,” the boy says, coming up next to Harry. “You and your friend were staring at me all night.”

“Well, you were staring at me first, were you not?” Harry quips back, in a way similar to the way he’d have used with Apollo, or perhaps even Calliope if she was being particularly testy.

The boy laughs, shaking his head slightly. “I guess I was. I’ve never seen you around here before. Your friend, I’ve seen him, but not you.”

“I am… new in town. Staying with Liam for a bit.” Harry replies.

“Hm. Good to know. Will you be at the pub again tonight?”

“Maybe. Liam’s choice, I will do whatever he wants, probably.”

The boy studies Harry carefully. Before he gets the chance to reply, the drink-maker calls Harry’s name and offers up his drink, which Harry takes with a smile, which he’s learned that service workers like this appreciate.

“Harry.” the boy echoes, looking at him carefully. “I’ll see you at the pub, then?”

“I will see you at the pub.” Harry confirms, nodding.

 

Liam comes home from work and first complains about Harry spending money on a drink that he didn’t even finish (Harry grew bored of the taste, sue him). Once he stops rambling, he listens to Harry’s story of the day.

When he finishes, Liam has a very excited look on his face. “You’re going to come to the pub, then? And talk to him?”

“If we happen to cross paths there, then yes, I will speak with him. You mentioned sexuality, how do I know mine?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

“Well, it’s a bit of a spectrum, you see. It’s rather fluid. You already seem to be sliding towards this dude from the pub, but that’s not guaranteeing that it’s going to go anywhere or that you won’t find a woman that you like tomorrow. You’ve just gotta let it play out, Haz.”

“I do not like that.”

“Which part?”

Harry pauses for a second. “The not knowing. Having to _let it play out,_ as

you say.”  

“Yeah, not many people do.”

 

Liam gets Harry a drink with something called rum in it, like the Mai Tai from last Friday, and they get to drinking. Harry enjoys watching the alcohol hit Liam, he becomes less put-together and more laughy and open, and Harry loves it.

“Harry, your pretty boy is here.” Liam says, nodding towards the door.

Harry watches the bar boy order a drink, then turn around and survey his surroundings with his drink in hand. His eyes meet Harry’s, and he taps his friend on his shoulder, and then makes his way across the bar.

“Harry. I didn’t think I’d really see you here.” the boy says, taking a sip from his beer. “How was your drink from the cafe?”

“It was… not my thing. And, I told you I would be here. I keep my promises. You are…”

“Oh, Louis. I forgot I never told you my name.” the boy — _Louis_ — replies.

Harry nods. “Louis. Well, it is nice to meet you, Louis.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Harry.” Louis winks.

“I’m Liam.” Liam interjects, finally. “And I’m drunk.”

Louis laughs, extending his hand for Liam to shake. “Louis. And I hope to be your level of drunk sometime soon. Harry, I’ll find you when I’m intoxicated and hopefully you’ll have saved me a dance?”

Harry smiles, nods, and Louis goes on his way. “He wants a dance, Liam. I have not witnessed very many dances. Watching my mother and a suitor dance at dinner does not count.”

“Oh, Harry, this dance will be nothing like the kind you’ve seen on Olympus out in the open. This is a dance that they’d do… behind closed doors, if you know what I mean,” he winks at Harry, then looks over to where Louis has rejoined his friend.

“Liam, I am afraid I do not know how to dance like that.” Harry says, eyes wide.

“Ah, I’ll go order some shots. You’re going to down all of them, even though it won’t be fun.”

With that, Liam gets up and heads to the bar. He comes back with a tray of little glasses filled almost to the brim with liquor. He laughs while Harry makes faces as they go down. “Feeling anything yet, Hazza?”

“Hm. I suppose so. I am not drunk, as I still do not think I can get so, but… I feel… warm.”

“Perfect. That’s all you need.” Liam says. “You should go find him, while this is hitting you like that.”

Harry stands up, legs feeling unsure as he assumes Liam’s feel even though Harry’s definitely not drunk.  He finds Louis by the bar, talking loudly about something that Harry doesn’t understand.

Harry slides up alongside him at the bar, trying to summon some of the confidence his mother has in situations like this. Louis turns to look at him, smile on his face. “Ready for that dance, Harry?”

“Yes, I am, Louis.”

“Alright. Ni, I’ll be right back. Maybe. If I end up unlucky,” he winks at his friend before grabbing Harry by the hand and leading him out onto the dance floor.

They start out facing each other, Louis’ hands resting gently on Harry’s waist. They don’t say anything for a moment. Eventually, Louis laughs. “This isn’t really your scene, is it?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, not particularly.”

“Eh, I don’t blame you. But I always try to make the most out of it.” Louis replies, smiling. “I don’t mind this part of it, though.”

“What part is that?”

Louis shrugs. “Dancing, talking to boys.”

“You do this often? Dance and talk to boys at pubs?”

“Only to the cute ones,” Louis grins cheekily. The song changes in tempo, something slow and dirty, something Harry is _very_ unused to. Louis presses closer, before turning his back to Harry and nestling his ass against Harry’s hips. Harry moves his hands down to Louis’ waist, leaning into the warmth of Louis’ body.

This is foreign to him, more foreign than any other thing with mortals has been, but Harry tries to roll with it. He’s got this Mortal Alcohol in his system and even though it doesn’t feel like it’s doing much, Harry’s going to pretend that it is. He’s got this beautiful boy in front of him and even though he doesn’t understand it, Harry’s going to pretend that he does.

Louis turns around when the song is over and a new one blasts in, and looks Harry in the eye. “Listen, do you think you’d wanna meet up outside of here? I’ve heard the club isn’t the best place to find a lover and I’ve seen it play out. But I’d like to see you outside of here.”

“I think I would like that.” Harry replies, smiling.

“The cafe? Where I ran into you? Tomorrow at, like, three?” Louis suggests.

Harry makes a bit of a show out of thinking about it, like he has to check his mental calendar, before he nods. “Sounds good.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to it. As much fun as I’m having right now, it looks like you should get your mate home.” Louis looks over Harry’s shoulder to where Liam is sitting in the booth, head leaning against the wall.

“He is drunk. You are probably right. Tomorrow, then?”

“Don’t stand me up, Harry. I’d be heartbroken.” Louis says, and then he’s off.

Harry gets Liam up and makes him dial a cab, since Harry isn’t quite sure how to do that, and they get home safe. Liam vomits into the toilet once before falling asleep in his bed. Harry stays up for a long time after that, partly because he doesn’t want to try to sleep, partly because he doesn’t necessarily need to. He just roams around, attempts to work the television (with no success), stares out the window of the apartment to the city, sits and watches Liam sleep with a hand on his leg, trying to hear his thoughts (with no success).

Morning finally comes. Harry uses the coffee maker that Liam taught him how to use last week and has a cup waiting for Liam when he trudges into the kitchen. “Good morning.” Harry greets, extending the mug to him.

Liam grunts. “Mhm, coffee. I love having you here.”

“You vomited once last night. You were very drunk.”

“Yes, and I envy you for the amount of alcohol you drank and didn’t feel an ounce of.” Liam glares. “How was your time with the bar boy last night?”

“It was… interesting. I am to go to the cafe at three and meet him.” Harry says. “He said he wanted to see me outside of the pub.”

“Sounds like a date, Harry. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I do not have a choice.”

“What are you gonna, like, talk to him about? What’s your story gonna be?”

“I have not thought much about that. We did not speak much in the pub, I kind of hoped it would just be like that.”

“It won’t be, H, because this is during the day. Sober. In public. On dates people, like, talk about themselves.”

“I have an inordinate amount of knowledge in my head about mortal things. I can figure out what to speak to him about. You seem more nervous than I.”  

“I just don’t want you to— you know what? Forget it. You’ll be fine.”

“You do not want me to mess this up.” Harry fills in. “You think I will go on this… _date_ with Louis and say something that will clue him in to what I am. Where I am from.”

“I mean… you said it, not me.”

“You did not need to say it. You insinuated it. That might hurt a bit more than actually saying it, Liam. You think I do not have what it takes to live here.”

“I’m just worried about you, a little bit, that’s all.”

“You told me to make friends, Liam. That is what I am doing. If you do not like it, perhaps you should summon my mother and ask her to get you out of this.”

With that, Harry turns and walks away. He gets ready for his meeting with Louis around one-thirty, and departs for his walk to the cafe ridiculously early just because he doesn’t want to be in the apartment with Liam any longer.

He picks out a table in the corner and sits in waiting for Louis to come. Louis comes when the small clock on the wall reads ten to three, ten minutes earlier than their agreed-upon meeting time.

Louis spots him and comes over, smile on his face. “Shit, and I thought I was early. Did you order anything?”

“No, not yet.”

“Great, I’ll go order, then. What do you want? I’m paying.”

“I can—”

“Harry, I am paying. What d’you want?”

Harry sighs. Louis doesn’t seem like he’s going to give up this fight very easily. Harry caves. “Fine. Whatever you get is fine. Surprise me.”

Louis grins. “You got it, Harry. I’ll be right back.”

Harry sits, again by himself, until Louis comes back a few minutes later, two drinks and a bag in his hands. “I got teas and some really good-looking muffins. I couldn’t resist.”

“Sounds great, thank you.” Harry smiles. “Do you come here often?”

Louis laughs out loud. Harry thinks back to his time on Olympus, how the God’s laughter always bounces off the walls and shakes the room. Louis’ doesn’t, as they’re in a loud coffee shop, but Harry thinks if they were somewhere else, a smaller room with less people, it would bounce off the walls like Zeus’ or Calliope’s or Apollo’s. He also thinks he’d like to test that out. “I do come here often, actually. I like to stop before I go into work.”

“Where do you work?”

“I co-own a tattoo shop with my best mate.” Louis replies. He takes a sip from his tea, wincing a bit as the hot liquid goes down. “Just up the street. We open at four on weekdays, noon on weekends.”

Harry recalls hearing that word, recalls seeing them on mortals through the years, _tattoos._ “So you have work today?”

Louis shrugs. “Technically, yeah. But my mate’s rather lenient with my coming and going when it comes to me meeting pretty boys.”

“You do this often, too, then?”

“No, not really. It’s happened a few times, but not recently. I’ve done my fair share of jobs today, I’m… taking my break. So, what do you do?”

“Uh.” Harry pauses. “In between jobs at the moment.” He says finally, a practiced answer that Liam has drilled into his mind.

“Ah, I’ve been there before. You’ll find your thing, don’t worry. We all do. Everyone’s got a purpose.”

“You believe that? We all find our ways, or… have a purpose?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

“I mean, I guess so. You really wanna delve into shit like that on the first date, Harold?” Louis smirks, breaking off a piece of his muffin.

“My name is Harry, and you never said this was a date.”

“I know that. And I know I never said it was a date. But… we could make it one.”

“Louis, you hardly know me.” Harry says, hoping it comes across as flirtation rather than genuine concern. Louis really _doesn’t_ know Harry, but all Harry wants to do is tell Louis everything right out the gate.

“That’s what dating is for, Harold. Surely you’ve done this before. We get to know each other.” Louis grins. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” Harry says. That’s the first time he’s ever said those words out loud. They feel right, more right than anything has in a long time. “How old are you?”

“Aw, you’re just a baby.” Louis coos. Harry can detect the teasing nature of his voice. “I’m twenty-six. I’m the oldest of seven kids. How many siblings have you got?”

Harry debates his answer to this. “Plenty. My family is a little bit of a… mess. With so many siblings, I assume yours is the same?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, but I love it. It’s crazy and hectic, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Harry smiles. Louis seems like he would like Olympus. Harry _really_ wants to tell him all about it. “I know what you mean.”

They spend the next hour and a half talking. As Louis gets a text from his coworker and says he should probably get going. “Can I get your phone number, though? This way we can set this up again.”

Harry’s caught off-guard by that. Harry knows all about cell phones and technology. But he doesn’t _have_ one, and that’s the problem. Harry racks his brain, trying to figure out what he’s heard people say, just to buy him time until he actually gets his hands on one of these devices. “I have not got my phone at the moment. Dropped it in the loo.”

Harry tries to pretend he doesn’t see Louis’ face fall just the slightest bit. “Happens to the best of us. You know what? I’ll just…” Louis trails off, feeling his pockets for something. “Pen. Carry it around just in case tattoo inspiration hits me. I’ll write down my number, and you can just text me as soon as the jackasses at Apple are done with it. You better not stand me up, Harry…”

Louis quirks an eyebrow, like he’s waiting for Harry to fill something in. “Styles.” Harry says. “Harry Styles. And I will not stand you up.”

“Tomlinson.” Louis says softly. “Louis Tomlinson. I’ll catch you later, Styles.”

Harry rushes back to the apartment to see Liam after his date with Louis. “Liam, he is absolutely incredible. We talked for two whole hours. He is so unlike anything I have ever seen on Olympus. I do not even care if my father hears me say this: Louis Tomlinson gives Apollo a run for his money, as mortals say.”

Liam looks at him amusedly. “Oh, really?”

“I need a cell phone, Liam. Louis has given me his number and I need to get one so I can text him so we can do this again. Did you know he is a tattoo artist? I noticed a few tattoos on his skin, they looked beautiful, but I did not really ask about them. I need to have another date so I can ask more about them.”

“A phone. You want a cell phone?”

“Yes. Can we go now?”

“You’re acting like a madman, H.” Liam laughs. “But I like it. We’ll get you a phone, c’mon, lets go.”

********

_i will not be a_   
_bird bred in a cage,_   
_too dull to fly_   
_even when the_   
_door stands open._

Harry walks into Louis’ tattoo shop at half past eight. There’s music playing, more songs Harry doesn’t recognize, but he pays it no mind. Louis is bent over the arm of a customer, mouthing along to the words of the song on the speakers, a small black buzzing needle in his hand.

“Ah, you’re Harry.” someone says. Harry turns around to face the voice. He feels his breath catch in his throat. If Harry thought _Louis_ was Apollo manifesting himself, there’s no way this man _can’t be._ He’s breathtaking, as much as — if not more so — than Louis. High cheekbones and dark brown hair and a bit of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Harry thinks this _must_ be Apollo.

“I am Harry, yes. Supposed to be meeting with Louis.”

“For another date, yeah, I know.” Apollo-not-Apollo smiles. “He’s just finishing up, you can watch him work if you want.”

“Thank you…” Harry trails off, waiting for Apollo-not-Apollo to fill in his name in the same manner that Louis had used the other day.

“Zayn. Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Harry smiles back at him before he turns and heads over to where Louis’ working. The young girl looks up at him curiously. Harry thinks she’s pretty, but nothing like the goddesses on Olympus.

“Hey, H. I’m just wrapping up then I’m all yours.”

“Take your time. I like to watch.” Harry tells him, sitting down in the chair beside the girl. “What are you getting?”

“Oh, birds. For my grandfather. We just lost him a few months ago.” the girl replies openly.

“I imagine that pain is hard. I am sorry for your loss.”

“Eh, it’s alright. Circle of life and all that,” the girl shrugs. “It was kind of hard at first, but it’s getting better.”

“I would not know how it feels, as I still have my grandfather and he sometimes happens to be a bit of a… jackass.” Harry says tentatively. He’s never used one of those words before, the ones humans label as “bad”, the ones Liam and Louis both enjoy throwing around. It feels good.

The girl laughs. Louis sits upright before she gets the chance to answer, announcing that he’s finished. He rambles off care instructions before sending the girl on her way and turning his full attention to Harry.

“You’re great at talking to people. Wish I had you before, she was a nervous wreck about it at first.” Louis says. “How are you?”

“Big family and all. And… good, how are you?”

“Tired. It’s been kind of a long day. Do you mind if we just go to my flat? I’m knackered and the Rovers game is on and I kind of want to get drunk. You game?”

Harry’s a bit terrified of being alone with Louis in his flat, but he nods anyway. “Sure. Count me in.”

They walk to Louis’ flat, which is the opposite direction of Harry’s. As soon as they’re inside, Louis turns on the television and puts what appears to be a soccer game on before grabbing a few beers from the fridge. “This is my hometown team.” Louis supplies, cracking his beer. Harry mirrors his action. “I always wanted to play for them, but never really pursued it the way I should have.”

“I never played sports.” Harry says.

“Really? Not even in little hometown leagues and shit?” Louis asks, looking at him.

“They are not really a… thing where I am from.”

Louis’ look becomes instantly curious. “Where _are_ you from anyhow, Harry Styles?”

Harry takes a breath. “Up north. Small town. No room for leagues.”

“Ah, of course not. Shame. I’ll have to teach you how to play footie one day, then.”

“Sounds like a plan. I would love that.”

Louis asks Harry a lot of questions. Harry answers them as best and non-weirdly as he can and covers up by asking Louis questions in return. Louis talks about his family in detail, but Harry answer in as vague details as possible. Louis doesn’t seem to notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

Louis drinks and yells at the game on the television, sometimes, talking to Harry in side comments every so often. “How many tattoos do you have?” Harry asks suddenly.

Louis mutes the television as the commentators come on screen. “Quite a few. I’m not gonna lie, I think I lost count a while ago. Have you got any?”

“Not yet. I think… I might be a little bit afraid, to be honest.”

“It’s not that scary. How’s your pain tolerance?” Louis asks.

Harry thinks for a moment. He hasn’t really been exposed to much physical pain, but being the child of a God and a muse, he probably has a good pain tolerance. “Kind of high, I suppose.”

“Then you’ll probably be fine, depending on where you get one. A lot of people actually like the pain. Do you have one in mind?”

“Oh, no. I did not think about them until I met you.” Harry admits, looking down at his own hands.

“Well, I’d be happy to tat you up if you ever decide you want one. Or I’ll just tell you all about mine, because I love talking about ‘em.” Louis smiles, pulling up the sleeve on his tee shirt to expose his bicep. There’s a large deer on his right arm. Harry looks at his arm closely, fascinated. “You can touch them, if you want.”

Harry reaches a hand out and gently touches the large arrow on his forearm. He hopes Louis doesn’t notice his fingers trembling just slightly. “They are beautiful,” Harry says under his breath. “Getting them does not hurt you?”

“No, not really. Like I said, some people like the pain. I’m one of those people. It doesn’t bother me.” Louis shrugs.

“Could you give me one?” Harry asks, feeling breathless.

“Here? Now?”

“Can you?”

“I _can,_ are you sure you _want_ me to?” Louis asks, looking at Harry carefully. He nods quickly. “Where?”

“Oh. Um, my chest? Will that hurt?”

“For some people, yes. But if your pain tolerance is high, then you’ll be fine. And it’ll be small, yeah? So you’ll be fine, c’mon, let’s get to it. Before one of us chickens out.” Louis says, standing up. He leads Harry to the kitchen, sitting him down in one of the chairs at the table before leaving the room again.

He comes back with a small gun, like the one from the tattoo shop, a towel, and a razor. “Okay, we’re gonna clean the area and then get right to it.”

Louis pulls up a chair in front of Harry. He shaves the fine hair from the spot on Harry’s chest he picked out, and sits back. “Are you sure?” Louis asks again.

“Just do it. I trust you.”

“You hardly know me,” Louis smirks, using one of Harry’s own lines against him. “What d’you want?”

“Half a heart.” Harry replies, not thinking about it.

“Half a heart, huh? What’s that symbolic of?” Louis asks, leaning closer to Harry. The tattoo gun starts whirring, and Harry feels himself tense up. “You’ve gotta relax. It’ll make this a hell of a lot easier. Take a deep breath, relax into the chair.”

Harry does as he says, getting a reassuring smile from Louis. “Do it.”

Louis looks away from Harry’s face and down to his chest. The first touch of the needle to Harry’s skin only makes him flinch. He tells himself to relax. Sitting in the chair with Louis hunched over him makes Harry feel more mortal, more human, more _alive_ than he ever has in his life. All those years on Olympus, and these few weeks with people, this is the most in-place as Harry’s ever felt.

“Okay,” Louis says suddenly, sitting back. “I’ve finished, you now have your first tattoo, Harry Styles.”

Harry looks down at his chest. The ink looks out of place. Like something impure on his body which is supposed to be pure, untouched. “Wow. Thank you.”

Louis smiles, leaning forward again and swiping over the tattoo with a piece of gauze. “Happy to do it. I suspect that’ll be the first of many? You took that like a champ.”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe.”

Louis looks at him carefully, like he’s thinking, calculating his next words. Except. Words don’t come from Louis’ mouth. Instead, he leans forward and puts his mouth on Harry’s.

It feels odd. Harry’s never done this before, ever, so he has nothing to compare it to. Almost hesitantly, Louis tilts his face to the side, lips slowly opening against Harry’s and Harry… Harry feels like he’s in heaven. He starts kissing back after a moment, because it feels like it’s something he should do. Louis leans further into him, a hand coming up and tangling in Harry’s long hair and every time Harry tries to pull away, Louis bites at his bottom lip and pulls him right back in.

Finally, finally, Louis pulls back. “Shit. That was…”

“Good?”

Louis nods his head, looking at Harry in awe. “Incredible. Your hands are shaking. Are you, like, nervous?”

“Amped up,” Harry replies shakily. “And just got the shit kissed out of me.” he adds, using another one of those “bad” words he always hears and praying he’s used it right.

Louis laughs, nodding in agreement. “I agree with that description.”

“Thank you for my tattoo,” Harry whispers, putting a hand on Louis’ cheek. “I will want more, one day. You can do them.”

“I’d be happy to, H.” Louis says, voice just as soft as Harry’s is.

“I should probably go home now.” Harry says. “You are a bit drunk and very tired, I do not want to keep you.”

“I’d offer to drive you, but like you pointed out, I’m a bit drunk.” Louis laughs. “Can I kiss you one more time before you go?”

“I would like that.” Harry nods.

Louis leans in again, feeling like he’s kissing Harry with a bit more purpose than before. When he leans away, he smiles. “I’ve never kissed anybody like that before.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like, soft. Without trying to get a fuck out of it.” Louis admits, looking down. “I like it.”

“Good, I am glad.” Harry smiles softly. “You should get some sleep, being drunk and all.”

“I’ll text you, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Please.”

Louis walks him to the door, kisses him one more time, then Harry goes on his way. He feels like he’s floating the entire way home, feels like he’s not really in his body, living this life. He feels untouchable; in a different way than he felt when he was on Olympus. And he _loves_ it.

“Hey, Haz. How was the date?” Liam asks immediately.

Harry finds himself sighing whimsically, leaning against the counter. “We went to his place of residence.”

Liam’s eyebrows pitch up in intrigue. “You did? Did you get laid, Styles?”

“I do not think I know entirely what that means.”

“It _means_ did you have sex, Harry?”

Harry scoffs. “No. But he did kiss me. That was my first kiss with anyone, let alone a mortal.”

“And how was it?”

“It felt like… it felt like the divinity my mother always wished for me to have but I could never attain.” Harry breathes.

“Shit, H. That’s intense. Can you tell me more about Louis in the morning, though? I feel like you could talk about him for hours and while you don’t get tired, I do.”

Harry nods. “You should sleep. I will not. Even if I could, I am far too excited.”

Long after Liam has gone to sleep, Harry stays up. He takes his shirt off and stares at the half heart tattoo on his chest. Then he puts the crown that Calliope gave him on his head and studies himself closely. Sometimes Harry can’t believe he gave Olympus up.

It’s now, while Harry is wearing his mother’s crown and staring at Louis’ handiwork in the mirror, that he feels a presence. It overtakes the whole apartment. It can only be Calliope. Harry ventures to the living room. There’s a soft glow coming from the small balcony, so that’s where Harry goes.

“Mother.” he says softly. “If you give me a moment—”

“No, do not change,” she interrupts. “I would like to look at you. Drink you in.”

He steps closer, and she puts a hand on his arm. Calliope’s eyes close and she takes a deep breath in. Harry tries to think normal things, since she’s likely reading his thoughts right now. “You are nervous to see me. That is understandable, I suppose, though it has only been a matter of weeks.”

“I just was not expecting you, that is all.”

“How are you adjusting? It seems as though you are adjusting well. I see you have gotten a… tattoo.” Calliope looks displeased as she says it, but she studies Harry’s chest closely. “You know your divine skin will heal over that eventually, yes?”

Truthfully, Harry hadn’t even thought of that. “Yes, I suppose it will.”

“It might, it might not. Might take awhile.”

“I am adjusting well. Liam is helping me to learn the ropes. He got me a cell phone, so I have been making some… friends.” Harry says. Friends who give me tattoos and kiss me, friends who are almost — if not _as_ beautiful as Apollo.

Calliope nods, sighing. “Your father has not visited at all, has he?”

“No, not yet. Would you not know if he does?”

“He might not choose to tell me. I do not keep tabs on him. You are wearing your crown.”

“I was just… thinking. About Olympus. You gave this to me so I would not forget where I came from.”

“You are right, I did. Seeing you wear it even here brings me joy. Your identity has not been called into question?”

“Not at all, Mother.”

Calliope nods again. “Okay, well. I only wanted to see how you were doing. I will leave you to your mortal activities now.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Mother.”

Just as quickly as she appeared, Calliope is gone. The light and warmth and feeling that came when she had, leaves the second she disappears again. Harry locks the sliding door behind him like Liam always nags him to do, and he goes back to his room. Harry closes his eyes to rest, but no sleep comes. He lays there until morning comes and Liam wakes up. Then that’s it.

********

“Harold. How’s that tattoo healing up?” Louis asks, coming up alongside Harry.

“It is healing well. And I told you, my name is Harry. My place this time?”

“Obviously. I’ve gotta fucking show you Captain America. Can’t believe you haven't seen any of the Marvel films.”

“I have not seen many films.” Harry admits, then immediately regrets it because that sentence definitely seems a little suspicious.

“I can see that. It’s okay, they’re not for everyone. Lead the way, Styles.” Louis grins.

Liam won’t be home because he’s working late, and Harry had begged him to stay out as late as possible so he can have Louis over and Liam doesn’t interrupt whatever happens. Harry gets Louis a beer, and takes one for himself just to keep up the act, and they sit on the couch. Liam taught Harry how to boot up the _Netflix,_ which is so foreign to Harry it’s insane, so he doesn’t have a fluke with Louis sitting next to him.

“Ideally, you’d watch all of the Marvel movies in order. But I’ll just explain shit to you along the way.” Louis says, cracking open his beer and putting the bottle cap on the table.

“Sounds good, I appreciate that.” Harry smiles softly.

They’re sitting a safe distance apart, but over the course of the movie, which Harry truly understands none of, they end up closer and closer together. When Louis’ hand comes to rest in Harry’s own, Harry tries to read his thoughts but comes up empty. That’s the kind of thing that came to him effortlessly on Olympus, but he’s struggling endlessly with among Mortals.

The movie seems like it’s wrapping up, between long monologues and intricate fight scenes, and Louis looks up at Harry. “Harold. Usually when people Netflix and chill there’s a bit of making out involved. You haven’t made a single move.”

Harry doesn’t understand what that means at all, but he doesn’t question it for the sake of appearing normal and educated on these things. “Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move,” Harry replies softly.

“Fine, if you’re going to be difficult,” Louis huffs, leaning up and catching Harry’s lips in a kiss. It’s not as slow as their first one, it has a bit more heat to it, but Harry likes it.

Louis presses up harder, his lips opening and tongue dipping into Harry’s own mouth. He likes to bite, Harry’s beginning to learn, but he doesn’t mind at all. Louis’ hand rests on Harry’s chest, slowly moving down towards the button of his jeans. And Harry lets it happen.

“Harry, do you want this?” Louis murmurs, lips brushing against Harry’s. “Because I do, and it kind of seems like you want to take it slow but—”

Harry shakes his head, grabbing Louis by the back of the neck and pulling him in for another bruising kiss. “I want this. Whatever you want.”

Louis nods. “Okay, good. Thank fuck.”

Harry laughs softly. Then he surrenders completely to Louis voice and his touch. Harry doesn’t know how the fuck any of this works, so it’s best for him to let Louis take control. Louis undoes Harry’s pants, gets a hand around him, and from there it’s easy for Harry to let biology, want, desire, take over. He almost wishes Liam would come home now, see him like this, being bold, being human.

Harry, somehow, finds it in him to do the same to Louis. He feels a bit tentative at times, but curiosity and intrigue and pleasure overtake him at some point. It feels beautiful, it feels mortal, feels like something he’ll never give up. Harry takes his time, Louis accuses him of teasing, Harry apologizes, Louis tells him not to stop. Begs him. Harry has all the power, he likes it, likes being able to do this.

After, Harry’s left with _Louis_ on his right hand and, curious, he lifts a finger to his mouth. “Motherfucker,” Louis breathes, shaking his head. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, Styles.”

“That would be a shame, Tomlinson.” Harry smiles. “I think we missed the end of the movie.”

“We can watch it again anytime you like,” Louis replies. Harry thinks he’s going to hold Louis to that.

 _he showed me his_  
_scars and in return,  
__he let me pretend_  
**i had none.**  

 

Louis Tomlinson takes Harry on a wild ride, to say the least. Harry’s days are spent texting Louis, talking to Louis, or just hanging out with Louis. Liam tells Harry that the relationship is getting dangerous, Harry tells him that everything’s fine. But Harry’s bracing for the arrival of his father, who will surely have a lecture for him.

That visit comes late one night, when Liam is still up. “Bro. I think Apollo’s here.” Liam says, gesturing to the balcony.

There’s light, brighter than what came from Calliope, and Harry swears he could almost _hear_ his father’s presence in some way. “I should go speak with him. You should go to your room, he is probably going to yell at me.”

“I’ll stay here, Haz. I can handle it.”

“Okay, that is your choice.” Harry says. With a deep breath, Harry opens the door and steps out to stand before his father. “Apollo.”

“Harry. I have wanted to see you for some time now, but I wanted to ensure there would not be any issues.”

“I understand, Father. Why are you visiting now, may I ask?”

“You may ask, that does not mean I will be happy about it. Your Mother says that when she visited, you donned my gold gift.” Apollo says. “Are you missing Olympus?”

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

“Well, rumor has it you are… making friends. More than friends, even.”

“I have met a few people, yes.”

Apollo looks at him carefully. After so long not seeing that gaze, Harry’s intoxicated by it at first, feels like it could incinerate him on the spot. “None of them are questioning where you are from?”

Harry thinks back to all the times over the past few weeks that Louis has given him a funny look after he’s said something, all the times he’s pretended to know a movie or what the fuck Louis is talking about in _general,_ all the times Liam has had to coach him through simple shit purely because Harry doesn’t get the mortal concept.

Out loud, to his father, the great God Apollo, he says, “No. Not that I have noticed.”

Apollo looks at him carefully, like he can see right through Harry’s lie, but doesn’t say anything that confirms or denies this. “I am glad to see you are enjoying your time here. Have you given any thought to when you will return home?”

“Not yet, Father. I would like to stay here longer, I do know that.”

“Then you will stay. But we all do anticipate your return, Harry.”

“I do not know when that will be.” Harry says honestly. “I am enjoying my time here, I am learning about so many things.”

“You cannot like this place more than you like Olympus.” Apollo says disapprovingly. “You have to come home eventually. There is a spot for you on a throne.”

“Suppose I do not want that spot, Father?”

“What are you talking about? You _have_ to become a God, Harry. You are the son of Apollo. You have prophecy to fulfill, one that your Mother was obsessed with for all your years, you cannot turn your back on the family, you cannot turn your back on the throne.” Apollo says harshly. He shines brighter the angrier he gets, but Harry swallows his fear.

“I do not know if that is the life for me, Apollo.”

Instead of answering, Apollo disappears. Harry feels like he’s going to cry. He turns and goes back inside, passing Liam on the couch and pulling his phone from his pocket. He calls Louis, calls Louis right away because he feels like he needs to get this shit off his chest now, _now,_ before he bursts.

“Harry?”

“Can I come over? I want to talk to you.”

“I mean— can it wait? It’s getting late—”

“No, it cannot wait. Please, I will be there and gone in less than an hour.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah, I mean, of course. Yeah.”

Harry hollers to Liam that he’ll be back, and heads off to Louis’ apartment. He only knocks three times before Louis swings the door open. “Harry, what the fuck is wrong? Are you— are you crying?”

“No, I was, but not anymore. I need to tell you something, Louis, and it will not be easy for either of us.”

“Um. You’re scaring me a little bit, Harold. What is it?”

“I am not from here.”

“I know, you’re from up north. Bunch of siblings. No little footie leagues. Crashing with Liam, in between jobs.” Louis drones. “The fuck are you on about?”

“No, Louis. I am not from _here._ At all. I… you are going to think this is insane, but I promise you it is the truth. My father is Apollo. My mother Calliope. I am here because I had an interest in pursuing my prophecy, but really I could not stand being on Olympus any longer. I have not seen any movies or TV shows or heard any songs because I am not _from here.”_

Louis is silent for a long time. “Are you… are you telling me… you’re, like, a God?”

“I am meant to be one. And I know I have deceived you for all this time and I am sorry. But my feelings for you are _real,_ even if I do not quite understand them.” Harry says quickly, taking a step towards Louis.

Louis takes another step away. “I don’t really know what to make of all this, H. How… how do I know you’re not fucking with me? That you’re not, I don’t know, crazy?”

“I can tell you anything you want to hear. Any stories of the Gods or my childhood. I can tell you of the time they tortured Prometheus or— or of Achilles and his lover, I can tell you anything you wish to hear. I will tell you everything about me.” Harry says, definitely sounding like he’s pleading but not really caring. He racks his brain, looking for a solid way to prove this to Louis.

Then he remembers the tattoo.

“How long ago did you tattoo me, Louis?” Harry asks, already pulling his shirt over his head.

“A month or so, maybe? Not even?” Louis guesses. “Why? What the fuck does that have to do with—”

Louis’ sentence gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on Harry’s pec, on the half a heart tattoo that’s already got new skin healing over it that most definitely wouldn’t normally be there. “It’s fading. How— how the fuck is that happening?”

“Because of my divine bloodline my skin heals faster than most. I am sure if I tried, I could even heal you, if I had to.”

“I, um. I need you to leave, Harry. I just. Really need to process, and… look, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course.” Harry says, already moving towards the door again. “And, know I am sorry for deceiving you. I never… coming here, that was not my intention.”

Harry walks back to his and Liam’s place with a whole different feeling than before. Harry’d imagined telling Louis the truth since they met, but he never imagined feeling like this. Liam turns to look at him the second he comes through the door.

“What the fuck was that, H? Are you kidding me? You can’t just run out of here—”

“I might have done a bad thing. I went and saw Louis. And I told him what I am. Because my father angered me and I could not control myself I might have just fucked all of this up.”

“You told Louis.” Liam deadpans. “You told Louis that you’re a— a God?”

“I told him that I am the child of Apollo and Calliope and that I am meant to be a God, one day. And he asked me to give him space. He said he would call me tomorrow.”

“Jesus _fuck,_ Harry! You can’t be doing that! If he just decides you’re crazy that’ll be a _blessing._ Your mother and father and fucking _Zeus_ will pull you out of here and back there faster than you can even blink. Did you not think about that?”

“I did. But I also thought about Louis. I thought about Louis and how much I enjoy spending time with him. I thought about how honest and open he is with me and how I was being none of the sort with him. And I thought about how— how I was supposed to find a great love and I will never, ever find it if I cannot be honest.”

“Do you… do you know how much of a fucking _longshot_ it is for your great love to be a mortal?” Liam asks, looking at Harry with wide eyes.

“I do know. But I also know that I am not afraid to take that chance. Liam, all my life on Olympus I spent my time waiting for something more, something that could be bigger than I was. It seemed like there was nothing of the sort. It’s Olympus, Gods roam the halls and I was destined to stay there with them. I would be seated at my father’s right hand if I was found worthy. But that never, ever appealed to me. Then I came here and I was introduced to so many new things. I met people and I got a fucking _tattoo_ and I got kissed by a beautiful boy, and I’ve had coffee and beer and so many other mortal things. All of these things made me feel more alive than Olympus _ever_ did.”

Liam goes quiet. Harry finally feels that weight lift off his chest. It’s the weight he’d carried throughout the walls of Olympus, the weight he carried around with the mortals for the last month. It feels so good to finally have lifted, Harry hardly even needs Liam to answer at all.

“I’m not going to tell you I understand. Because I don’t think I can fully understand. But I… I hear where you’re coming from, and it makes sense. And, really, nobody should be shocked that you don’t know if you want to spend the rest of eternity on Olympus,” Liam says finally, slowly. “So, let’s not talk about Olympus, let’s talk about Louis.”

“I thought you would not want to talk about Louis.”

“No, I do. It sounds like you’re… feeling a lot of different things over it and talking about it will help you sort it out.” Liam explains. “It’s a thing people do.”

“Okay, we can try that.” Harry says, sitting down at the kitchen island. “Louis… he makes me happy.”

“Okay, great. How?”

Harry shrugs. “I do not know, exactly. We spend time together and sometimes I wish it would never end. He makes me laugh and explains the concept of so many mortal things and only gives me a weird look when I do not know what television show he is referencing.”

“How does it feel when you’re, you know. Doing stuff with him?”

“Relations?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Yes, Harry. Sex.”

“Well, from what I can gather we have not had _actual_ sex yet, as in intercourse. But kissing him makes me feel like… I do not know how to describe it. Kissing Louis makes me feel like everything that my mother wanted for me on Olympus is actually attainable, but it is not there, it is here, it is with Louis.”

“Haz, I know you don’t know anything about this, but it kind of… it kind of sounds like you’re falling in love with Louis. Already. Shit, leave it to you to fall in love with the first person you talk to here.”

“I do not know if that is the case. But, that is why I wish to stay here.”

“Well, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’m not leaving, no matter what. No matter what happens to Louis, whenever you decide you want to leave.”

Harry takes a deep breath, nodding. “I am sorry for running out like that.”

“It’s okay. I kind of figured you were going to Louis’ anyhow, so I wasn’t really _that_ worried. I didn’t think you’d run and tell him everything, but… yeah, I wasn’t worried about your whereabouts.”

“Still, I am sorry.”

********

Louis calls Harry around five o’clock the following day. Harry answers immediately. “Louis. Hi.”

“Hi, H. Alright if I come over and talk?”

Harry looks toward Liam, who’s minding his own business on the sofa. “Yes, of course.”

“Okay, great. ‘Cause I’m outside, I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Liam. Louis is here.” Harry says, after the line has disconnected. “He wants to talk.”

“I’ll go to my room.” Liam says, without thinking twice. Harry nods in thanks. By the time Louis knocks on the door, Liam is sealed off in his bedroom.

Louis passes by Harry at the door without saying _hello_ , or _what the fuck,_ or _how are you what you are_. He just comes right in and asks instead, “do you have anything stronger than beer?”

“Um. Liam might have wine? I do not know if you like that or not—”

“That’ll do, I guess. Where?”

Harry points, awkwardly in his own kitchen, to where the bottle of wine and the special glasses for it are. Louis pours one and goes to pour another before stopping and looking at him curiously. “If you drink this will it even fuck you up?”

“If by _fuck you up_ you mean get me drunk, then no, not really. Not without a lot of it, at least.” Harry replies honestly.

Louis nods, and pours Harry a glass anyway. “So, you said your father was Apollo?”

“Yes. He had an affair with my mother, Calliope. She also had an affair with Ares, but he betrayed her. She still harbors a bitterness over it that she cannot seem to let go.”

“I know Apollo, god of the sun and all, but… Calliope?” Louis already looks confused. Harry doesn’t know how to tell him to buckle up, because all of this is going to be nothing _but_ confusing.

“She is one of the muses. She is considered the Chief of them all, really. Presides over eloquence and poetry. She has an incredible voice, both speaking and singing. When she gets angry it is almost like she glows. But even her angry voice sounds beautiful. She could tell a man to do anything, and he would, no questions asked,” Harry explains. “She is beautiful.”

“Makes sense, then,” Louis murmurs, almost just to himself.

“What does?” Harry asks anyway, even though he thinks Louis was only speaking to himself.

“How beautiful you are. Your voice is the same way. Could tell me to do just about anything and I’d do it without thinking twice.” Louis admits, smiling a little. _Good, he is not as angry as he was last night, not as angry as I thought he would be._

Harry manages to smile back at him. “What else do you wish to know?”

“You mentioned a prophecy. Two questions, what the fuck is that, and what the fuck is yours?”

“Prophecies often come attached to children like me. Achilles was to be greater than his father. Odysseus tried to avoid the Trojan war because he was told that it would take him ages to return home if he went. Patroclus was always meant to die in the war. Mine stated that I would find a love that all would be envious of.”

“Well, that’s not entirely tragic.” Louis says. “It could be worse.”

“I am supposed to face great boundaries.”

“And that’s why you came here?” Louis asks. He’s already finished his glass of wine.

Harry pours Louis another glass while thinking of an answer. “I never liked Olympus. At first it was captivating to me, but after so many years the appeal was lost. Gods are selfish and cruel and I knew that I am destined for a spot beside my father, but I do not know if I can see myself taking it. My father and my uncle were pestering me about my prophecy, and that is when I got the idea to search for it here.”

“Did you think you wouldn’t find it there? And, like, where is _there_ anyway?”

“Above here. Invisible to the mortal eye.” Harry says, looking up. Louis looks up too, as if he can see it even though Harry just said that he would never be able to. “It is big. Bright. Every God and Goddess has their own quarters.”

“Where did you live?”

“Within my mother’s quarters, for the most part. I rarely travelled to Zeus’ halls, and never without the company of my mother or, more rarely, my father.”

“It kind of sounds like you hate them. Your mum and your dad.” Louis notes, looking at Harry like he still doesn’t quite understand all of this, but like he’s still intrigued by it.

“They are Gods. They are selfish and at times very unkind to each other and others. Apollo thinks he is untouchable, and I suppose he is, but he acts like it. It makes him a bit of a…” Harry trails off, trying to think of the right word.

“A bit of a dick?” Louis supplies, smiling. Harry nods. “Your mother?”

“She is beautiful and she knows it. It makes her vain. And she wants me to be the same way, but I do not think the same way she does. She would try her hardest to make me see things the way she did, value the same things as she, but I never could.”

“You said last night that you were _meant_ to be a God, and that makes it sound like you don’t want to be one. Do you? The way you talk about it makes it seem like you don’t.”

Harry pauses, thinking up an answer that won’t make it sound like an asshole for turning his back on his family, his legacy. “I have only ever told this to Liam. And my father, as of last night, though he did not hear me out. On Olympus I have seen many things. I have seen the rise and fall of countless Gods and countless mortals. I have watched cities burn to ash and have watched mortals build themselves up to a prime status just to fall to the ground and end up with nothing. I have seen beautiful things, things people would be jealous over, things even the Gods marveled at. And I stopped being impressed by all of that a long time ago. But I came here… and I was fascinated by all of this so quickly.”

Harry finds himself stopping, debating if what he wants to say his next very bold, controversial thought. He decides to go ahead with it. “I have seen so many things. They have not made me… stop in my tracks for a long time. But you… you are the first thing that has made me stop in my tracks. In a long time.”

Louis looks grounded after Harry says that. He looks like he’s finally not confused anymore, he looks like all of a sudden, all of this has some kind of clarity. “Harry.” he says softly. “You know this is fucking insane, right?”

“I do know. I do not expect you to understand all of this. But, for whatever it is worth, you are handling it better than I anticipated.”

Louis lets out a laugh, looking down at his wine glass. “Top me off again? I want to ask you more questions, but I’m going to need more alcohol.”

Harry tops Louis’ wine off three more times, until Louis’ cheeks are flushed pink and he’s a bit more loose than before. They move to the sofa, sitting a very safe distance away from each other, while Louis looks at Harry curiously.

“Come on.” Harry prompts. “I know you must have a million questions. Just ask them.”

“What was it like? Living up there,” Louis blurts, tucking his knees to his chest.

“I mean, it is kind of like living here. Except up there, Gods roam the halls as well. I can remember my Mother spending her time gathering stars to make up for the ones she stole for Ares that he refused to give back to her. She did it more when I was younger, not so much anymore, but how is she supposed to try to avenge her pain for millenium anyway, it must get old. Living up there was boring at times. We do not have the same concept of time that mortals have, so there was really no… pressure to keep track, necessarily. That was an adjustment, coming here and needing to learn times and days and whatnot. It really does not make any sense, essentially time does not exist.”

Louis laughs, it echoes just like Harry thought it would. “I know, a lot of people say that.”

“Your laugh.” Harry says softly, unable to help himself. “On Olympus… all the Gods’ laughter and voices echoes off the walls. It shakes you. Yours does the same thing.”

“Does it?”

Harry nods. “Yes. I always thought that it would, but this is the first time that I have ever noticed. What other questions do you have?”

“You’re supposed to be a God. How do you, like, become one?”

“I am supposed to fulfill my prophecy first and foremost. Then, once I get older, I am supposed to have a spot next to my father.”

“But you don’t want that because Olympus doesn’t hold the same value for you as it does for them,” Louis says softly. “This is still crazy, and I can’t believe that I’m _believing_ it, but… shit, Harry.”

“Like I said, you are handling it better than most.”

“I kind of thought something was off, but I just thought you were, I dunno. Uncultured, or something. I didn’t expect you to tell me you were the spawn of the god of the sun and a muse.”

“Well, how could you have anticipated that? It is not a normal explanation. And I do not blame you for being disbelieving or having questions.”

“It’s just… insane.” Louis breathes.

“Do you… does knowing this make you not want to see me?” Harry asks tentatively, biting his lip nervously.

“I know it probably should. But… no. Harry, you’re so fucking pretty and so fucking weird and this is so unfathomable to me but I’m… interested to see what happens.”

“I will do whatever it takes to help make this more sensible to you. I will answer any questions or show you anything I can.” Harry says quickly. “Or we will not talk about it at all, if that makes it easier.”

Louis smiles. “You’re considerate.”

“I have spent my life appeasing Gods. Appeasing mortals is like nothing to me,” Harry tells him.

“Oi! Are you sayin’ I’m easy?” Louis asks, laughing.

Harry just smiles, shrugs, and then Louis squashes the distance between them and kisses him. They kiss slowly, until Louis breaks away for air, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “So, when I kissed you for the first time, after I gave you the tat, was that your first kiss? Or, like, up there did you… do stuff with people — Gods — on Olympus?”

Harry sits back to look at Louis curiously. “Why, does it matter?”

“No, of course not. I’m just… curious. I’m known to get a bit possessive, that’s all.”

“Jealousy is never a good look on people. But, yes, that would be my first kiss. You are my first time doing anything at all.”

“Were there not people up there that you could do those things with?”

“There were, but many of them were related to me in some way, and that never appealed to me. Plus, I am considered young and many of the other immortals found that… odd. But mainly it did not feel right, having relations with people I am related to.” Harry explains honestly, shrugging. It’s another thought he hasn’t really shared with another soul. Telling Louis these things feels so easy.

“Ah, I see.”

The question strikes Harry suddenly, Louis is the one person he’d want to ask about these kinds of things and Liam would only make fun of him for it. “Liam told me that humans have a word for that, sexual intercourse between siblings. What is it?”

Louis laughs out loud, shaking his head. “Come _on,_ Louis. Just tell me. Mother would always tell me of the Gods having relations with their siblings, and Liam told me that humans do not do that. What is the word?”

“Incest might be the word you’re looking for,” Louis replies, still laughing.

“Yes! Yes, that is it! That has bothered me for so long, I did not want to ask Liam because he would make fun of me for forgetting and needing to ask again.”

“And asking _me_ doesn’t make you feel embarrassed?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, not at all. You are very different than any Gods and very different than their offspring.”

“What do you think about us? Humans.”

“You are… a combination of good intentions and bad habits.” Harry says decidedly. “Some Gods are like that as well, but humans behave that way on a whole different level. It is very difficult to follow, I am still learning how to read humans and how to react to their behavior.”

“Good intentions and bad habits.” Louis echoes. “That’s… insightful.”

“I have seen many things. Perhaps it has given me some insight.”

“I’d say it has, Styles.”

_there are no bargains_   
_between lions and men._   
_i will kill you_   
_and eat you raw._

Now that Louis knows Harry’s big secret, Harry can rest a lot easier. Louis’ much less confused when Harry asks for clarification on mortal things, and he’s almost over eager to help Harry understand things when he needs it. Harry joins Louis at the tattoo shop most days, keeping him and Zayn company and picking up on simple “customer service” concepts as well.

“I’ve been thinking, and I’ve got a tip for you,” Louis says, sitting down on the couch and throwing a leg over Harry’s lap. His tattooing day is done, it’s late at night and Louis convinced Harry to come back to his apartment — which in London they call a _flat,_ Harry has learned — and now they’re relaxing. Louis’ got a beer, and apparently he’s got a tip for Harry.

“You have been thinking? That can never be good.” Harry teases, poking Louis’ foot with his finger.

“One, you’re getting the hang of banter, I feel proud. Two, I’m not even as upset as I should be that I’m the subject of said banter. Three, if you want to give me a foot massage, I won’t complain.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but gets the ball of Louis’ foot in his hand anyway, rubbing in with his thumb. “What have you been thinking about?”

“When you speak, you should stop speaking so… eloquently.”

Harry gives him a confused look. “I do not think I understand.”

“See? That’s it exactly. There’s, like, ways of making speaking easier, faster. When you’re saying _do not,_ try just saying _don’t.”_ Louis explains, taking a sip of his beer.

“Don’t.” Harry repeats. “That does not sound correct.”

“Again! Instead of _does not,_ say _doesn’t.”_

“Doesn’t. I do not like these contractions, Louis.”

“You already know what they’re called. How can you not speak them but know what they’re called?”

“Liam taught me all the things he could about mortals. He is the son of Hermes, and Hermes is the messenger of the Gods. He spent a lot of time coming between Olympus and here, so Liam often went with him. He mentioned that the details of your language are complex and very confusing. I know what contractions are, but that does not mean I wish to use them.” Harry explains, a bit long-winded but he’s going for full transparency here with Louis. “Though, you correcting me and showing me how they are properly used helps quite a bit. I feel like I am learning a lot from you about people.”

Louis smiles, digging his heel into Harry’s thigh. Harry takes that as a cue to move onto rubbing his heel, which he does. “I’m happy to teach you, you know that.”

“I do know that, and thank you.” Harry replies.

“Do, like, do your parents come visit you here?”

“They have each come one time. I have a hunch that Apollo might disguise himself as a mortal just to watch me but not interact, but I am not sure yet. The first time I saw you, I thought you might have been him. Same with Zayn.” Harry admits, looking down at Louis’ feet to avoid making eye contact with such a declaration.

“Aw, you thought I was so pretty I could’ve been your father? You really are a God.”

“I am not a God.” Harry corrects, voice soft. “They want me to be, but I am not one.”

“I know. Shit, sorry, I know that’s a sensitive topic.”

“It is okay. Can you tell me about your family?” Harry asks.

“Only if you switch feet,” Louis smirks, tugging his left foot away and settling it back down in Harry’s lap and presenting his right foot. “I have six siblings. I’m the oldest. It’s five sisters. There’s Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe, and Doris. Daisy and Phoebe are twins, and Doris has a twin brother, Ernest, they’re four. Daisy and Phoebe are fourteen, Fiz is eighteen, and Lots is twenty.”

“They are all a lot younger than you are.” Harry notes.

“Yeah. For awhile it was just me and my mum, my dad left her when I was young. She had the girls with Mark, who really raised me. Then they got divorced and she met Dan and had the little twins, and now he’s the major father figure. My dad and Mark are dicks sometimes, but at least Mark shows his face more often than my dad.” Louis shrugs, looking down at his beer bottle.

“Your mother is crazy to deal with that many children,” Harry marvels. “The twins are babies, you said?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, they’re four. And my mum is a fucking saint, let me be the first to tell you that.”

“You love them all a lot.”

“I do.” Louis confirms, nodding. Before speaking again, he downs the remainder of his beer. “I don’t see them nearly as often as I should, but I still love them all to death. Even if sometimes they drive me nuts.”

“What was it like growing up here?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs. “It was a normal childhood, based on typical mortal ideals. I played footie growing up. Joined my school’s drama club, played Danny Zuko in _Grease._ Which I know you haven’t seen, which is a major injustice, so we’ll have to watch it soon.”

“You sing, then?”

“Probably not as good as the muse of eloquence and poetry, nor as good as her son, but I enjoyed it. Gimme my feet, I’m gonna grab another beer, do you want?”

Harry shakes his head. “I do not like drinking it and it does not get me drunk, so it is not worth it.”

“C’mon, H, try those contractions out for me,” Louis coaxes.

Harry sighs, letting go of Louis’ feet. “I _don’t_ like drinking it and it _doesn’t_ get me drunk. _It’s_ not worth it.”

Louis grins. “There we go, see? You sound like a normal, human person.”

For the rest of the night, Louis makes Harry speak using these language techniques. Harry doesn’t particularly like the way contractions sound when they slip off his tongue, but he enjoys seeing Louis get excited when Harry speaks like “a normal human person”, so Harry tries to contract his words as often as he can.

********

Apollo visits on a Thursday, while Louis is asleep in Harry’s bed. Harry feels his presence overtake the apartment, and immediately goes to the balcony to meet him before he can cause a scene. “Father. What brings you?”

“I have heard some things that do not fit my taste, I wish to put these rumors to rest by coming directly to the source.” Apollo says curtly. “I have been told that my son is making a bit of a… mess down here.”

“There is no mess, Father.”

Apollo shakes his head. “That is not what I have heard. Judging by the rumor mill, you have told someone what you are. You are forming a bond with a mortal that is frowned upon.”

“Father, I came here to find something new. I came here to find my prophecy.”

“You do not know that this— this _man_ is the one you are meant to lie with, the one who will contribute to your prophecy!” Apollo says angrily. Just like always, it seems like he might flare up, take the whole damn city with him.

“My prophecy stated there would be great difficulty that came with my love. I did not, for one second, believe that those boundaries would come in the form of my own father. Apollo, I have come all this way and learned so much, experienced so many things, and I do not necessarily know what love is or how I am supposed to know if I have found it but I know that I do not want to give up.”

Anger follows across Apollo’s face again, but he simmers down before speaking. “I am going to have a discussion with your Mother and your grandfather.”

He goes away again without a formal goodbye, leaving Harry standing in the chilly October (Louis’ taught him _months_ now too, it’s a bit overwhelming) air by himself, again on the verge of tears. With a shaky breath, Harry turns and heads back inside.

Louis’ sitting up in bed, looking confused. “I heard someone else talking. I thought at first it might have been Liam, but then I listened and it didn’t… sound or— or _feel_ like Liam.”

“That’s because it was Apollo.” Harry replies. He’s used another contraction, but this time Louis doesn’t smile. “He came to ask me about what I was doing here, said he heard some rumors that I had shared my identity with someone.”

“How did he hear that?”

“Gods talk,” Harry says simply, shrugging. “They hear things. And Apollo is always watching, anyway. It is unsurprising that he heard.”

“And he was angry?”

“Very. I am not surprised about that, either. He said he was going to talk to my mother and Zeus, but I presume he will be back.” Harry says, sinking slowly down onto the bed.

Louis looks at Harry carefully. Tentatively, he puts a hand on Harry’s arm. “What did you tell him?”

“He said that there is no way of knowing if the man I was with now was the individual I was meant to lie with based on my prophecy. And I told him that while I did not know what love was, my prophecy said that finding this love would come with great boundaries but I never expected him to be the one posing those boundaries.” Harry summarizes, looking anywhere but at Louis’ face.

“You’re standing up to him. That’s… that’s good, H.” Louis says softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You are the mortal I revealed my identity to, so I doubt there is much you can do to help.” Harry says, sounding more bitter than he would have liked to but not really being able to control it.

“Shit, sorry, H, didn’t think this would cause that much of an issue.”

“It is not an issue.” Harry says, enunciating more and more perfectly the angrier he gets. “I knew what the risks were. But no, there is nothing you can do to help. There is nothing anyone can do.”

Louis is silent for a moment. He removes his hand from Harry’s arm. “What do you think they’ll do to you.”

“I do not know. Apollo might make an argument for me to be pulled back to Olympus, never to leave again. I am hoping that either my Mother or Zeus will fight against that, but there is really no way to be sure.”

“Okay. Okay, so… what do we do?”

“There is nothing to do, Louis. You do not know if you are in love with me, it is not worth getting involved in.” Harry says dismissively, standing up abruptly.

“What if I was?” Louis blurts.

“You are not. I do not think it works like that.”

“You don’t know shit about how it works, Harold, that’s been the main problem all this time.” Louis says disapprovingly. “You can’t tell me what I’m feeling and, yeah, maybe it’s fucking crazy but what if I _am_ falling in love with you?”

“I do not know what that even means, Louis. You cannot expect me to automatically reciprocate that.”

“It’s not something that has a definition, Harry. It’s… it’s a feeling, a set of emotions and things that happen. Sometimes you fall in love right away and sometimes it takes longer, you don’t even realize it’s happening. And I can already feel myself falling for you. It happened when we were sitting in the coffee shop on that first date and you made up some lame excuse as to why you didn’t have a phone,” Louis laughs, but it’s not bright and loud like it usually is, this time it’s dull and forced. “You get these massive fucking dimples when you smile and I want to live inside them sometimes. When you talk about things like Olympus you get this light in your eyes but your smile is always a bit sad, and I just want to uncover every single part of you.”

“You cannot love me.” Harry says firmly.

“How are you going to fulfill your prophecy if you refuse to let the love _in,_ Harry?”

“Knowing what I am, Louis? Knowing that I am supposed to be a God? Knowing that my father is Apollo and my mother is a self-absorbed muse? Knowing that I am here to fulfill a prophecy on a whim?”

“If on that date in the coffee shop, you had blurted out the real reason why you didn’t have a phone, I would’ve looked at you funny for a moment, then I would’ve asked you when you were free again. If when I gave you that tattoo, you said that it would probably start healing over in a few weeks, I would’ve given you a funny look, and asked if there was anything we could do to prevent that from happening. If at _any_ point before that night you had told me what you were, where you were from, who you’re supposed to become, I wouldn’t have judged you. And I would’ve told you, even then, that I was falling in love with you.”

“I have never loved anything,” Harry says softly. “I am afraid I do not know how.”

“Maybe that’s your boundary, then.” Louis suggests. “I can show you.”

“You can… be shown how to love?”

“Maybe.” Louis shrugs.

“The only love I have ever seen was between Gods who know only betrayal and revenge. Their love is rarely true.”

“I thought you mentioned watching Achilles and— and whatever his name was, you mentioned watching them fall in love. Didn’t theirs teach you anything?”

“Yes, I suppose it did.” Harry admits, voice softer now that Louis’ got him.

“Okay, then we’ll… we’ll figure it out, okay? Just… come get back in bed.”

Harry does as Louis asks, but one thought is burning in his mind. “You are not used to this.”

“What do you mean?”

“It taking time for people to fall in love with you.” Harry supplies, propping himself up on his elbow. “I suspect you’re the kind of person who gets what he wants quickly. It’s effortless for people to fall in love with you. But I am different. I’m going to take work.”

Louis laughs softly. “I guess you’re right. I am rather difficult to avoid falling in love with. But, I’m up for a challenge, Styles. Oh, and you’re getting better at combining your words. I like it.”

“You do? I could use them all day if you like it. _Wouldn’t. Don’t. You’re. I’m.”_ Harry says lowly, teasing only a bit. Louis pulls him down for a kiss, dropping his jaw open and coaxing Harry to do the same. “ _You’re_ a good kisser,” Harry murmurs.

“Only kisser you’ve ever had.” Louis remarks, kissing along Harry’s jaw. “No one’s ever given you one of these before?”

“One of what?”

“Oh, Styles, just you wait.” Louis grins. Then he attaches his mouth to the hinge of Harry’s jaw. Harry can feel his sharp little teeth and feels the bit of pressure from Louis sucking, and he gasps, it ignites something within him that starts to drive Harry a little nuts the longer Louis goes on for. He moves to the side of Harry’s neck, then right beside the column of his throat, then right above his collarbone.

“What is this?” Harry asks when Louis finally pulls back. He touches a finger to one of the spots Louis spent a lot of time on, and hisses when it hurts just a bit.

“Um, they’re called hickies.” Louis replies. “A lot of people like them. Did… did you not?”

He looks bashful all of a sudden, which is very unlike Louis. Harry’s helplessly endeared. “I think… I think I did like it, actually. I really liked it. Do… do you like them?”

“Yeah, I love them.”

“Giving or receiving?”

Louis laughs. “Both, if I’m being honest.”

“I like it when you’re honest. Would you like me to give you some?” Harry asks.

“You’ve never done it before.”

“No, I have not done many things. But I would try to give you… _hickies,_ you called them?”

Louis doesn’t appear to be persuaded much more than that. He pulls off his shirt and sits up a little straighter. “Okay, come here. You just put your mouth on me, wherever you want, I’m not picky, and you suck.”

“You used teeth. Should I use mine?”

“Maybe just wait, get the hang of the… the sucking part more.”

Harry’s first one isn’t so much about the logistics, but more about showing Louis up. After a few seconds of determined sucking, Louis lets out a tiny gasp, and reaches a hand up to tangle in Harry’s hair. “You can— teeth. If you want. Just light, don’t wanna be a vampire.”

Harry obeys, nipping and soothing it over with his tongue. He continues on as Louis had, hitting the same spots. Harry lands on Louis’ pulse point, which makes Louis tug a little harder on his hair, and they both groan. “You like that spot.” Harry points out.

“You like when I pull your hair.” Louis snaps back. “Do you want—”

“Whatever you want,” Harry says quickly.

“Let me teach you shit, then, Harry Styles.”

_the grudges of_   
_gods are as_   
_deathless as_   
_their flesh._

Apollo doesn’t return for a long while. The days with Louis pass by slowly, with grace and fluidity and joy. Harry loves spending time with Louis, sees Louis more than Liam, even. He gets to know Zayn rather well — well enough to confirm that he is, in fact, _not_ Apollo spying on Harry. Zayn’s actually really nice, and Harry doesn’t think Louis told him The Big Secret (as Louis so eloquently refers to it), because Zayn doesn’t really treat him any differently.

Louis teaches Harry how to hold the tattoo gun one day, and says maybe sooner or later he’ll let Harry give him one. They eat at all Louis’ favorite restaurant spots, which Harry isn’t shy when it comes to giving opinions about. Louis finally shows Harry _Grease_ one night, sings along all the words and re-enacts parts from the play he put on in school.

He tells Harry more and more about his family and his life growing up, and in exchange Harry tells him all the stories that he can think of from Olympus.

Louis and Liam even help Harry start looking for a simple job, that is once Harry _finally_ introduces the pair. He doesn’t pick one, but just the act of _looking_ sends a thrill down Harry’s spine.

Some days, when Louis takes his lunch break, they go back to one of their places and they _get off together,_ as Louis says. Those times are when Harry feels the most mind blown. And he feels the most proud when Louis walks back into the tattoo shop refreshed and with a fresh hickey blooming on the side of his neck.

Harry still finds himself on edge, though, over a number of things. He finds himself on edge over Apollo, first and foremost. And Calliope and Zeus, for that matter. He doesn’t know when any one of them will come and tell him that it’s time to go home with them because he’s breaking all the rules with the mortals. But Harry doesn’t want to do that, doesn’t want to fuck off back to Olympus and leave Louis behind. He doesn’t find Olympus home anymore, with its big halls and selfish gods.

Following as a close second in Harry’s mind, is his fear of things with Louis. They’re going great, but Harry fears the outcome. He cares about Louis, a lot, and Liam has even said that it sounds like Harry’s in love with him but would definitely know it when he feels it, but he doesn’t know how things are going to end. Harry is from another place. He’s not even supposed to be here, technically. He doesn’t know how things will end.

Those are Harry’s two major worries. Everything else is nowhere near as major or pressing as those two things. He fears the arrival of his own mother or father, as well as where things with Louis are going.

********

“I’ve learned how to use the microwave, Louis.” Harry says excitedly, as soon as Louis’ come in the front door of Harry’s flat. “Would you like me to heat you up some of these pizza things? I’m sure you had a long day at work.”

“Nice contraction use, Haz, and sure, I’d love some. Who showed you how to use the microwave?” Louis asks, pushing himself up on the counter.

“Liam is going on an… adventure with his father, Hermes. Liam still likes involving himself in those godly things. He showed me how to use the microwave because he’ll be gone for the weekend. I do not entirely trust it, but it works.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you _don’t trust_ the microwave?”

“I don’t trust a lot of your technology.” Harry shrugs, taking a beer from the fridge and handing it to Louis. He plates up a few more of the pizza things Liam bought for him and puts them in the microwave. “One day I think I might enjoy cooking. Like, for real.”

“That’s a great hobby. Make you a proper housewife,” Louis smirks, beer bottle pressed to his lips.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, it’s like. When a woman gets married, she’s committed to household duties, or whatever. She cooks, cleans. Takes care of the family. A housewife.”

“I am not a wife,” Harry frowns.

“Fine. A househusband, then. Better?”

“I still do not understand why either of those occupations should be frowned upon—” Harry gets cut off by the microwave beeping. “Dinner is served,” he says dramatically, presenting Louis with a plate.

“Fantastic. Thank you, love,” Louis smiles. “Grab me another beer? I’m gonna drain this one fast.”

Harry does as Louis asks, turning and handing the beer over without shutting the fridge right away. He catches sight of Louis, perched on the countertop with his legs swinging as he takes a bite of the hot pizza thing, illuminated by the harsh combined light of the fridge and the street lights outside. Harry slams the fridge shut abruptly, overcome with a feeling he can’t exactly pin.

“You alright, H?” Louis asks, looking at Harry curiously.

 _I’m in love with him._ “Yeah, fine.”

“Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something in the fridge offend you?” Louis muses.

“No, it’s.” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I just thought of something, that’s all.”

He’s still looking at Louis funny, he knows it, can feel the intenseness of his stare and the blush on his cheeks, but he can’t make himself stop. _Harry’s in love with Louis._ He kind of wants to blurt it out, but he also wants to sit on it for a little while longer. Wants to see if more of this sudden feeling overtakes him.

Louis finally nods slowly, putting another bite in his mouth. “You’re weird, Styles.”

“Probably because I’m from Olympus.”

Louis laughs out loud. “Yeah, that probably has something to do with it.”

He finishes his late, Harry-prepared dinner, then they retire to the couch to make out because Liam isn’t here and they can. Louis pulls Harry flush to his chest, prodding his tongue into Harry’s mouth to get him to open wider, which of course Harry complies to.

Harry draws himself away and trails along Louis’ jaw until settling on the side of Louis’ neck to sink his teeth in. Louis lets out a breathless sound, head lolling to the side. “Harry.”

Harry laughs softly, but doesn’t lift his head. “What are you laughing at? I’ll have you know that it’s very offensive to have you laughing at me while we’re making out.”

“Nothing. It is just… you only really call me Harry when we are like this.”

“Kind of like you only enunciate when you’re mad or when you’re turned on,” Louis murmurs. “I’m hoping it’s the latter at the moment.”

“It is,” Harry whispers. Louis captures his mouth in another kiss, hotter this time, more desperate. “Liam would not appreciate us desecrating his couch.”

“I don’t give a shit. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Harry laughs, finally surrendering and letting Louis kiss him how he likes. That’s a big thing for Louis, Harry’s come to learn: the kissing. He likes kissing, likes snogging the wits out of someone just to get them riled up. Harry doesn’t mind, and he’s truly happy to indulge Louis because, frankly, he enjoys getting the shit kissed out of him.

Of course, some divine entity chooses _now_ to show up. Harry puts a hand on Louis’ chest, pushing himself up and making Louis grunt in the process. “It is probably my father.” Harry says softly. “You should go to my room.”

Louis stutters, but eventually nods and heads down the hallway without Harry having to prompt him again. Harry opens the glass door, greeted by Apollo standing closer than he usually does to the apartment door. Harry thinks, just for a moment, that he might even venture inside, but Apollo makes no move to do so.

“He is here,” Apollo says, in lieu of a greeting. “The man you think you are meant to lie with for your prophecy.”

“I do think that, yes. And yes, he is here. How else am I supposed to find out if he is the one from my prophecy if I do not get to know him?”

“Harry, you know this will not sound good on Olympus. Your grandfather is displeased. And your uncles are already talking.” Apollo says disapprovingly.

“I am sorry that your son is ruining your reputation on Olympus. I am sure you are no stranger to damage control, Father, I am sure you can figure it out and make it seem like things are not as bad as they may seem. Even though, let me be the first to tell you, things are not bad. I— I am in love with him, Apollo. I do. I did not think I knew what love was, but I knew it the second I felt it.” Harry says confidently, defiantly.

“Harry. You do not know what you are doing.” Apollo says, voice dark. “The next person that sees you might be Zeus, and he will not be as kind.”

When Apollo leaves, Harry goes back inside and almost walks right into Louis. “He was beautiful,” Louis says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— but he was beautiful.”

“I know he is.” Harry replies. “But he is pitching a fit.”

“I, um. You’re in love with me?” Louis asks, voice sounding low and broken and scared.

“ _Yes.”_ Harry breathes out, tears welling up in his eyes. “And it is tearing me up and fucking tearing up Olympus, but I do not even care. I am in love with you, Louis. That was why I got weird in the kitchen earlier, because I— I realized it. And I had intended to sit on it for longer, just to make sure, but I did not count on you overhearing my conversation with Apollo.”

“You’re… you’re in love with me.” Louis repeats, like he’s disbelieving. “I made the child of Apollo and a muse named Calliope fall in love with me.”

“It was not very difficult for me to.” Harry says, running a hand through his hair. “I have met plenty of Gods on Olympus and you… you put a lot of them to shame.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Harry Styles.” Louis murmurs. “Do… you want to talk about your dad?”

“There is not much to talk about.” Harry replies. “Nothing that can be fixed, anyway.”

“What’s he gonna do?”

“He says the next person that visits me here will be Zeus, which is highly uncommon, and I am not looking forward to it if that is the case.” Harry breathes, stepping past Louis to get to the sofa. Before he can even get there, there’s another dull light coming from the balcony. “They will not leave me alone now that they know how I feel,” Harry sighs.

This time it’s Calliope, tears already in her pretty eyes. “Harry. My beautiful boy, what are you doing?”

“Mother, you cannot shame me for this.”

“I do not wish to shame you—”

“You do not get to tell me what to do with the love that I have found. You, of all people, do not have a right. Yes, you are my mother. But you are the same woman who let herself be scored by Apollo and stole the stars for Ares only to have him stab her in the back. You do not get to come here and tell me that I am doing things wrong.”

Calliope looks at him, scandalized. “Harry. You do not mean that.”

“I do mean that, Mother. I love the man that is in this apartment. And I am finally beginning to see what _boundaries_ my prophecy spoke of. They are from my own family. And, if I am right, if Louis is the great love described in my prophecy — the prophecy you were _obsessed_ with — then I will do whatever I can in order to make it work. I will overcome any of the boundaries this family throws at me because I do love him, Mother.”

“God, look at you,” Calliope breathes, reaching out and touching a hand to Harry’s hair. Her mood changes on a dime. “So beautiful, so young. But you seem so grown up. You should know that while some of the Gods do not support you, I do. I always have. And I will try to talk some sense into Apollo, though you know he is quite dense.”

“I do not want to leave here, Mother. They cannot make me leave.”

“I will make sure you do not have to leave.” Calliope replies softly. Then she’s gone.

“I think that will be the last visit we have tonight. Would you like more liquor?” Harry asks, locking the glass door behind him.

“Uh, yeah, I think I need it. Seems like you might need it too.”

“Sure, I will have some.”

“You stopped using contractions again, you’ve gotta calm down, love,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s arm gently. “I’ll get the liquor, Haz. You sit down.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. He drops down on the couch, head falling into his hands. Louis comes back with two bottles of red wine from Liam’s cabinet. “I don’t know if that will get me drunk.”

“This bottle’s for you.” Louis says, handing Harry one. “I’ll take my by the glass, but you can just take it by the bottle. You’re really in love with me, huh?”

“Yes, I think so. I got this… feeling earlier when you were sitting on the counter eating those pizza things. The light from outside and the fridge light and just… it hit me very quickly.”

“Yeah, it happens like that a lot of the time,” Louis replies.

“Have you ever been in love?” Harry asks. Harry knows it’s naive of himself to think that he’s the first and only person Louis’ ever loved; he’s twenty-six years old and there’s no way Harry’s the first serious… _person_ he’s ever had.

“Once.” Louis replies softly. “It was… a long time ago. He was always so aloof, though, never really attached. But I was in love with him. It didn’t work out. I was twenty. I haven’t been in love since then.”

“So you… have always been…” Harry trails off, looking over at Louis.

Louis downs the rest of his wine and pours more into the glass before answering. “Gay? Yes. I mean, no, I did date a girl when I was, like, sixteen. But after that… experience I knew I wasn’t into it.”

“Do you— your first time. With a guy. What, like, how was it?”

“Everybody’s first time is always a mess. My first time fucking a guy was when I was seventeen, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing. My first time _being_ fucked by a guy was a year later. And I was kind of drunk, very clueless, and it was shit. The times got better after that, and now at least I know what I’m doing. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

“So you prefer _fucking_ rather than _being?”_ Harry asks, genuinely curious.

Louis laughs. “Are you asking me all these questions because you want to fuck?”

“I want to get to know you,” Harry says, only lying a bit. He’s genuinely curious, has hear all about sex and fucking from Liam and has heard Louis mention it offhand a few times; of course Harry’s intrigued. And Louis knows a lot about this, at least Harry thinks he does, that’s part of the reason why he’s asking all these questions.

“And you want to fuck.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Fine, yes. I’m… curious.”

“To answer your previous question, I do prefer fucking as opposed to being fucked. And, for the record, I like hearing you curse like that,” Louis smirks. “C’mon, drink your wine. Let’s see if this gets a buzz in you. And we will fuck, whenever you’re ready. However you want.”

“I’d like that,” Harry whispers, bringing the bottle to his lips again. Louis watches him take a sip, then raises a hand up to keep the bottle pressed to Harry’s mouths so he has to keep drinking. Harry forces Louis’ hand down after a moment, unable to keep drinking anymore.

“Why did you do that?” Harry asks, wiping his mouth.

“Because it’s fun, Harold. And it’ll make you drunk faster.”

“I told you, I don’t think I get drunk.” Harry reiterates. “But I appreciate you trying.”

“You’re welcome.” Louis replies. “I’m here to help you with all mortal things. Vocabulary, technology, sex, alcohol,” he rambles, pulling Harry in closer with no regard for the open alcohol in both of their hands.

Harry laughs, throwing a leg over Louis’ legs and sitting upright in his lap. “Thank you, that’s good to know.”

Louis hums, nodding. He holds his glass up, gesturing for more, to which Harry rolls his eyes. “I thought you said this one was mine,” Harry says, pouring more into his glass anyway.

“You won't miss is. Your stomach is a bottomless pit for alcohol. It’s being wasted in there, might as well give it to someone who will actually feel it.” Louis shrugs. “Now, you’re so curious about my preferences about sex, is that because you wanna know how I’ll like it?”

“Yes, I guess so.” Harry replies, playing with the collar of Louis’ shirt. “I’ve

never done it before, obviously, and you have, and I’d want it to be good for you,” he admits, looking down.

“Anything you do would be good for me, baby, you don’t have to worry about that.” Louis says, rubbing his free hand along Harry’s thigh. The word _baby_ rings in Harry’s ear, over and over again, it’s the first time Louis’ called him that; used one of those words that Harry has heard but never been called.

Harry shakes himself from the stun of being called _baby_ to answer Louis. “That isn’t true. You know how you like things. You have a preference, _you_ know what you’re doing.”

Louis smiles up at him. “You’re beautiful.” He reaches a hand up and touches Harry’s hair just like Calliope had, and Harry finds himself shying away from the touch. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just. Do you know where I could get my haircut?” Harry asks.

“I know someone who could. We tat her every so often, she’s a hair stylist. Why? Do you want to cut your hair?”

“Yeah, I kind of do.” Harry replies, his own hand going up to his hair. “Calliope always… she was, like, obsessed with it, I guess. Thought it made me more beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful no matter what.” Louis says quietly. “But I can text Lou, get you an appointment.”

“I’d like that, thank you. Tomorrow, do you think?”

“Course, baby. We’ll get you a haircut tomorrow.” Louis smiles.

Harry hears that _baby_ on a loop in his head for the rest of the night, and he wouldn’t change that at all.

_you cannot know how_   
_frightened gods are of_   
_pain. there is nothing more_   
_foreign to them, and so_   
_nothing they ache more_   
_deeply to see._

Louis watches Harry intently as he moves across the bedroom. Harry makes eye contact with him while he’s staring at himself in the mirror, surveying his new haircut in the mirror. “You are staring at me.” Harry points out needlessly.

“You’re enunciating again.” Louis replies. “Are you angry?”

“No, it just happens sometimes. Do you like the haircut?”

Louis nods eagerly. “Love it. You look younger. For a however-old-you-are God.”

“I am not a God,” Harry says crisply, like he always does when Louis calls him that. “Sorry. _I’m_ enunciating. _I’m_ not a god.”

Harry’s fingers itch towards the drawer where his crown rests. Against his better judgement, he opens it and takes the crown out from its designated spot. “What’s that?” Louis asks, sitting up curiously.

“My Mother gave this to me before I left. Said it was so I wouldn’t… forget where I came from,” Harry says distastefully. He puts the crown delicately on his head, turning around to look at Louis. “Do I look like I could sit beside Apollo for the rest of eternity?”

“Yeah, you kind of do,” Louis says, breathless. “It looks beautiful on you.”

“My mother always said the same. But it means a lot more coming from you.” Harry smiles. “It was a gift from Apollo to her. Apologizing for knocking her up, essentially. He gave her this just before I brought up leaving, and she made me wear it to dinner that night. Apollo was, like, offended that I was wearing it instead of her.”

Louis looks at him curiously. “Why?”

“I don’t know. He was just… weird about it. My Mother told me how beautiful I looked in it. He complained about her giving away his gift to me, of all people.”

“That’s a bit insulting,” Louis says, motioning Harry to the bed. Harry goes over, as Louis asked, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“My mother said it suited me. Said it made me look like I was supposed to be there.”

“I think it looks beautiful on you, but I don’t think it suits you,” Louis says softly, thoughtfully. “Knowing you, hearing everything you’ve said, it doesn’t suit you. Olympus doesn’t suit you. Sitting next to Apollo for the rest of eternity isn’t something I can see you doing.”

“I love you,” Harry whispers. They’ve talked about that, said they’re _in love_ with each other, but never actually said those three words all the mortals make a big deal about.

Louis reaches and takes the delicate crown off of Harry’s head, looking at it carefully before setting it down on the bed. “I love you, too. And it doesn’t matter that you’re the child of a God, and that you’re supposed to be up there for the rest of time. It doesn’t matter that you’ve never done this before. I love you.”

“You’re my prophecy, Louis.” Harry says. “Coming here I— I didn’t even think I’d find it. I thought I’d be able to go back to Olympus with no problem, as soon as I was ready, go back up there and have my father yell at me for still not fulfilling my prophecy. But you’re… you’re it, Louis. And now… now I do not think I will be able to return to Olympus with no problem.”

“I don’t want to hold you back from what you need to do, Harry.” Louis says, voice breaking.

“I don’t want to do it.” Harry replies, not thinking twice. “I do not want to be what my Father wants me to be. I have always been his most… disappointing son, he will not be surprised by this.”

“Whatever you need me to do— whatever you need me to be, I’ll be it.” Louis assures, squeezing Harry’s hand.

“Gods are ruthless. They feed off of others hurt, and no matter how this goes, it will hurt me. Whether they come down and tell me I am forbidden to return to Olympus or they tell me I must return now, it will hurt me. And I am like them, I should be thriving off of it as well, but I do not. I never have, and I do not think I ever will.”

Louis’ hand moves from Harry’s to cup his cheek. “I know you think you have to, but the fact that you don’t want to is… it’s strong, H.”

“I do not want to be chained to Olympus for the rest of time,” Harry says, voice finally breaking.

“C’mere. Come here, Haz.” Louis beckons Harry closer, and when Harry does, he allows Harry to bury his head in his neck.

Louis holds him for a long while, running a hand through Harry’s newly short hair and humming softly, coaxing him back off the ledge and back down to the human world with Louis. “You okay?” Louis asks finally.

“You didn’t sign up for this,” Harry sniffles. “But I know this is why I came here — _you_ are why I came here, I feel it with everything I have in me. And I understand if you don’t—”

“No, no. Don’t start with that shit.” Louis says quickly. “I’ve told you so many times how crazy this is but I wouldn’t trade it— wouldn’t trade _you_ for the world.”

“I do not know what my family will do.”

“I know. But you’re smart, and they can’t bring you down with them. They are all dirty but you aren’t, you don’t live the same way they do and you don’t want to. They can’t bring you down with them,” Louis reiterates.

Harry nods. He isn’t sure of that, but for now he’s just going to agree with Louis until he knows more, until someone visits him and tells him how he is going to be punished.

********

“Harry.” Liam says, knocking gently on his door. Harry and Louis both shift where they were watching a TV show Louis insisted Harry see. “Oh. Louis is still here.”

“Yeah. What’s up?” Harry asks, using a hand on Louis’ thigh to push himself upright.

“I, um.” Liam’s eyes flit between Harry to Louis, and Harry nods, telling him to go ahead. “Hermes just paid me a visit, he says… He says the Gods want to talk to you. He’s coming back later to take you home.”

“I don’t— I don’t want to go home,” Harry says.

“I think it’ll only be temporary. Hermes thinks they’re going to make you pitch your case. Explain why this is your prophecy. Tell them what… what you want to do about it.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to tell them?” Harry asks. He clambors out of bed, beginning to pace across the floor. “Louis is _mortal,_ they are going to flip out.”

“Louis is a mortal but it’s not like the Gods haven’t had relationships with mortals before. You’re not doing anything that any of them haven’t done.” Liam says. “You can just throw that back in their faces.”

“None of them ever found said mortal to be the subject of their _prophecy!”_ Harry exclaims.

“Said mortal-slash-prophecy is sitting _right_ here,” Louis says, shutting his laptop.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just stressed. I love you, you know I do. But I didn’t think I’d have to justify that to my mother and father and uncles and fucking _Zeus.”_

Louis slides a hand down Harry’s arm, squeezing his hand. “It’s going to be fine,” Louis says softly, looking Harry in the eye. “You’re going to put on that stupid fucking crown that your mother gave you, just to appease her, and you’re going to tell them everything that you told me the other night. Tell them everything that you’ve told me since I found out who you are. These are the boundaries that your dumbass prophecy talked about.”

Harry takes a shaky breath. “You’re right. You’re right.”

Louis nods, bringing Harry’s hand up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles gently. “It’ll be fine.”

Despite Liam still standing right in the doorway, Harry leans in and kisses Louis gently. With another deep breath, he turns to Liam. “Okay, when am I going?”

“As soon as my father returns. Probably soon,” Liam replies.

 

Returning to Olympus is harder than Harry could have anticipated. He almost forgot the grandness of it all, how big and how beautiful everything was. Harry immediately feels like he misses Louis, but tries to push those kinds of thoughts out of his mind. He needs to be focused right now.

Calliope greets Harry at the doors of Zeus’ halls. “Your cut your hair,” she says bluntly.

“Yes, Mother. Why have I been called back here?”

“You are to explain to the Twelve what you are doing with the mortals. Some of them are… having trouble fathoming all of this.”

“You said you would fight for me, Mother. How is this fighting for me?”

“I did all I could, Harry, but your Father is a force to be reckoned with. You just need to go in there with your head held high, okay? I am on your side.”

Harry nods, even though he doesn’t entirely believe Calliope, and he heads into the room with his head held high. There’s eleven of the great Gods present, everyone minus Hades, which is unsurprising. They’re all sitting in their great chairs, looking all powerful and godly. Harry resents them in the same way he’s sure _they_ resent _him_.

“Harry. So nice of you to join us,” Ares muses.

“Ares, silence.” Zeus commands. Even though he was only speaking to Ares, the remaining Gods fall silent in their side conversations as well. “The boy is not on trial. You will not treat him as a criminal.”

“With all due respect, it does feel like a trial.” Harry says boldly.

“Zeus, he is not a child. He is smart. He knows we are questioning him,” Hera says, looking at Harry carefully. She’s smart, always knows how to keep Zeus in line. She’s always confident. Harry resents her for that. “You know why we wish to speak with you, do you not?”

“I have a vague idea. But I learned a long time ago to abolish any expectations when it comes to Gods, because they will always surprise you.”

That gets a chuckle out of at least half of them, and Harry prides himself on achieving that much. “Your father says you believe you have found your prophecy. Why do you believe this to be true?” Zeus asks.

“I did not expect to be able to fulfill my prophecy on earth. Not quite so soon, anyway. I thought I would explore, learn, but I… I know that I have found my prophecy. I knew the second I felt it.”

“Felt what?”

“Love. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I knew the moment I was in love. And the second there was such great… _blow back_ from Olympus, I knew I had found the boundaries I was meant to hit. And I will stop at nothing to pass them.”

Aphrodite sighs, twisting long, blonde hair around her finger absently. Mortals have crafted stories of her beauty and have often equated it to her being dumb, which she is not dumb, but sometimes she just fits herself right into the cliche. Harry resents her for it. “It sounds as though he has found love. Why are we questioning it? Because he has found love with a mortal?”

“His prophecy never dictated who his lover would be. Man, woman, mortal.” Poseidon says thoughtfully. “Apollo, why are you granting such resistance? All you ever wanted was for this boy to fulfill his prophecy.”

“I wanted him to fulfill his prophecy and take his seat on Olympus. Harry has expressed a desire to _not_ want that seat.” Apollo says bitterly.

That elicits a gasp from half of the Gods. Harry isn’t too pleased with that reaction. “Why do you not wish to be a God, Harry?” Athena asks. Harry resents her for asking a question she most definitely already knows the answer to.

“Olympus does not carry the same charm for me as it does for you. I have found more life among the mortals than I ever did here.” Harry replies honestly. It seems to physically pain Apollo and a few of his uncles, but Harry ignores it, forges on. “I do not share the same values. I do not wish to sit upon a throne for the rest of time. I have found my prophecy among the people and I do not plan to leave it behind.”

“But, Harry, Olympus is your home.” Poseidon frowns.

“No. I found home in a tattoo parlor owned by mortals. I found my home in a small residence shared with Hermes’ brilliant, loving son, Liam. I found the home I want to live within, and it is not here. It is not filled with cold-hearted Gods and walls that hold a millena of secrets. It is surrounded by mortals that become intoxicated off one glass of wine and often have many secrets of their own but try not to let them fester. It is with people who are flawed but forgiving. It is with the man who found out what I was but did not run away. Home is not here, Poseidon. And I know my Father resents me for that.”

“Go home, Harry,” Zeus says suddenly. “We all need to have a discussion. Mainly myself and Apollo. Hermes, return him, please.”

“You are not even going to make him stay—” Apollo begins to protest, but Zeus cuts him off simply with a hand.

“Apollo, arguing like this is not going to help your side. Harry is to return to London with Hermes, and you are going to come with me.”

Before Harry knows it, he’s back home. Louis wraps him in a hug immediately, kissing his cheek. Liam and Louis both sit him down in the living room, begging to know what happened.

“I sat before the eleven of them — everyone but Hades, no surprise — and they asked me why I believed I had found my prophecy. I told them that I knew the second I felt it, I was not sure how to describe it any better than that. Poseidon argued that Olympus was my home, but I told them that was not true, that I had found home here. Then Zeus told me to return here, that he needed to speak with Apollo, and now I am here.” Harry summarizes. “The entire conversation lasted, maybe, five minutes, judging by what I have learned about your mortal time,” Harry says, looking at Louis.

“You were gone for a hell of a lot longer than five minutes,” Louis says breathily, almost like he’s laughing like he can’t quite believe it.

“It’s the lag between going there and coming here.” Liam replies. “It takes longer than you would think.”

  
“I do not know what they will do. Before, I did not think my father would tear me from my prophecy. But now… I am not sure. An empty seat at the table will hurt him more than the love I have found, more than losing the prophecy.”

“You think they might…” Louis pauses, swallowing hard, “they might make you leave? Go back to Olympus?”

“I think that is what my father will want. I feel like Hermes will bring their word again, in the coming days.”

“Well there has to be something we can do, some way to stop it.” Louis says, beginning to sound frantic.

“There’s nothing we can do now. Best to get some rest, mate. It’s literally in the hands of the Gods now.” Liam says, clapping Louis on his shoulder on the way out of the room.

Louis and Harry go to Harry’s room. Harry sheds his crown while Louis sheds his tee shirt before they both climb into bed. “There must be something we can do,” Louis says softly. He’s refusing to lay down, just sitting up and letting Harry rest against him.

Harry rests a palm on Louis’ chest, eyes closed, feeling his racing heart. _I don’t want to lose you._ Harry sits bolt upright at the words in his head. Louis looks at him funny. “Everything okay?”

“I can hear your thoughts,” Harry whispers in disbelief. “I have tried all the nights we have lain together and not once was I able to. But now. Now you said you did not want to lose me.”

“That’s fucking terrifying, mate,” Louis laughs shakily. “Now I’ve gotta watch what I think?”

“I think it will only happen when I am touching you. I have tried with Liam as long as I have been here and not once have I been successful, even with him.” Harry shakes his head, still in shock. “I do not think I can control it. But I will not touch you for now.”

“No, I was only kidding, you can–”

Harry cuts him off. “It disorients me. I cannot deal with the distraction right now.”

“Right, of course. Sorry.”

“It is not your fault. Like I said, I cannot control it and neither can you.”

“Can you, um, start contracting your words?” Louis asks, swallowing hard. “Talk like a normal human person, that makes me feel better.”

“Sure, yeah, yeah. Of course. Um. I don’t really know what you want me to say,” Harry admits, rubbing his face. “But I’ll contract all the words you want.”

Louis smiles, nodding. “Perfect, that’s better. Thank you. And maybe lets not talk about Olympus stuff anymore tonight, because I’m just about Greeked out.”

Harry laughs softly. “No more Olympus talk, that’s no problem for me. We can talk about anything you want. Tell me about— tell me about, like, sports. I don’t know.”

“You already know all about sports, I gave you a crash course weeks ago.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Tell me about Harry. But, like, mortal Harry.”

“Mortal Harry doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. And technically he isn’t even mortal, he’s not even supposed to be here.”

“He’s killing it, though.” Louis laughs weakly, rubbing his face. “I’m impressed.”

Harry laughs too. “I don’t know about that. But he’s trying and he doesn’t want to leave.”

“Okay, the contractions I like but I don’t like listening to you talk about yourself in the third person.” Louis shakes his head.

“You set it up for that.” Harry grins. “Do you think you could go to sleep? It’ll probably be good for you. I could sing you a lullaby,” he’s only teasing, but Louis immediately gets excited, pulling Harry in and pulling them both back down onto the mattress.

“Louis, I only know the words to one song, that one you have on repeat at the shop.”

“Yeah, that’s _Cigarette Daydreams_ by Cage the Elephant and it’s a damn good song!” Louis exclaims. “Just sing it. Just the chorus, I wanna hear you sing.”

Harry rolls his eyes. With Louis’ wishes, however, he softly sings the chorus to the song. Harry can hear Louis running through the words in his head, and this time he doesn’t pull away. _If you can find a reason, a reason to stay._ Louis’ head echoes those words even after Harry’s stopped singing.

“There’s going to be a reason for you to stay, right?” Louis asks aloud, running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“You’re that reason, you know that,” Harry whispers. “You’ve showed me so many things. I’m not surprised you’re the one I fell in love with. It was so… so easy. I just didn’t think the _after_ part would be so hard.”

“I did tell you that I was irresistible, didn’t I?” Louis muses. “You’ll figure it out, H. I’ll help you.”

“I know you will.” _I just don’t know what they’ll do to me. I don’t know what they’ll do to you._

********

Hermes returns two days later, which is basically an eternity on Olympus. Harry meets him on the balcony. “Harry, your father is still not pleased with your decision making.” Hermes says. The Gods are still not fond of their greetings, Harry’s finding.

“I know that. It is not surprising.” Harry replies. “What have they said?”

“They are not happy about it, but there is little they can do. You have found your prophecy, and it is with a mortal, so there are not many options for you. But they can do nothing.”

“I just want to know who was saying what and where I am supposed to go from here.”

“Your Father was against this. Zeus remained indifferent, but convinced Apollo to let you stay, which is as good as you will get from Zeus. Aphrodite and Athena pledged their support in you. As did your Mother, for whatever that is worth. The others seemed to be playing both sides. Ares supported Apollo, which I am sure does not surprise you either.”

“It does not. Thank you, Hermes.” Harry says, trying to smile. Hermes does not even attempt to return one.

Hermes vanishes, and Harry returns back inside. Louis stands up immediately. “What’d he say?”

“Mainly it is only Apollo who is unhappy with my… behavior.” Harry replies. “I, um. Technically there is nothing wrong with loving a mortal. They have affairs with mortals all the time. I do not know what to do.”

Louis goes rigid. “There must be something you can do,” he says, jaw clenched.

“I do not know if there is. I do not know where to go from here. They want me to be a God but… I do not want to leave you behind.”

“Make me immortal!” Louis exclaims, like he’s thought up the greatest fucking idea ever. “Then we’ll be together for every single forever, we don’t have to worry about it.”

Harry actually laughs out loud, cold and quick. “It does not work like that, Louis. I cannot make you immortal.”

“Someone must be able to. You’re not above begging, are you?” Louis asks, sounding like he’s pleading, and Harry scoffs.

“I most certainly am. And Gods only do things for their own benefit, anyhow. Making you immortal does not help them. My Father believes I have shamed him. It has been raining for days here, Louis. That is my Father’s doing. He is the God of the sun and I have dishonored him.”

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know what happens to people like me, right?”

“You are born, and you live, and you die. Some live longer than others. And I have seen infants die,” Harry explains, then stops suddenly. The realization slams into him. “I will watch you die. That is why you want to become immortal.”

“Yes, Harold, obviously.”

“I have told you a million times that my name is not Harold.” Harry snaps. “My Mother never would have settled on that name. But, that is beside the point. I do think there is a solution, but I have a feeling that you will not like it.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You rarely like plans that other people conjure up. And you do not like plans that involve other people making sacrifices.”

“What… What the fuck are you on about?” Louis asks, sounding agitated and confused.

“I do not think a God would grant _you_ immortality. But I do think they would grant _me_ mortality.” Harry says, looking at Louis carefully, who already has a look of displeasure on his face. “I would do this, for you.”

I can’t let you do that, Harry. You— you’re meant to be a God. I can’t let you throw that away.”

“I was given a prophecy. I would find a love people would envy, despite drastic barriers. I do believe that your love is that love. Our love is my prophecy. I do not want to be a God if you are not there. This is my prophecy, and this is the barrier. I will have fulfilled my prophecy and my Mother will be content. Apollo will make me mortal to spare himself more shame. With me mortal, he knows I will one day be gone and eventually everyone will forget about me.”

“You’re destined for greatness,” Louis says softly.

Harry flashes him a grin. “I was never fit for the throne.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry. I want to stop you but I know I can’t.”

“I need to go to Olympus.” Harry says decidedly. This cannot wait any longer, Harry won’t let it fester like the Gods do.

********

“Harry. I did not expect to see you back here so soon,” Apollo says, sounding amused, coming into the hall. “What brings you back?”

“I wish for you to make me mortal,” Harry says. Being upfront is the only way Harry can think of to make this less painful, but he’s not entirely sure that will even work. “I do not want to watch Louis grow old and perish. I wish to grow old with him, I do not want to abandon my lover.”

“Harry. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? That mortal has got in your head, you are not thinking straight—”

“I know what I want, Father. I want you to make me mortal. You will not make Louis immortal, but I am not sure he can handle that anyway. You can make me mortal. It has happened before, I know Zeus did it to you and Poseidon as punishment. So if not you, then Zeus can make me mortal.” Harry says firmly. “I know you do not want this. But I want this. If you would like to consider it a punishment, then so be it.”

Apollo sighs. “We are going to talk to your Mother.”

With that, Apollo grabs Harry by the wrist and leads him off to Calliope’s quarters. “Apollo, what are you doing here?” Calliope gasps, standing up immediately. “Harry. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Your son wants myself or my father to make him _mortal,_ Calliope. Do you have any clue where he would have got these ideas from?” Apollo demands, pushing Harry ahead of him.

Calliope smiles sadly, looking Harry in the eye. “I knew you would love it there more than here.”

“Do not speak to him like that, caring and supportive. He wants to give up Olympus. Calliope, he should be a _God.”_ Apollo says angrily.

Harry can sense the flare-up coming, and this time he doesn’t fear it. “I do not want to be a God, Apollo. I do not want to live up here for the rest of time, after the man I love has died, expecting to be great and bathe in riches or whatever it is you do up here after so long.”

Apollo looks at him in shock. “You want me to ask Zeus to make you mortal? You want to never return to Olympus, really?”

“Yes. Nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

Apollo looks at him with pure disgust. “You really are a bastard child, are you not? The worst of my children.”

“Do this for me, Apollo. The next time someone asks about your children, feel free to leave the bastard, mortal-loving child out of the lineup.”

Apollo’s look goes from disgust to shock almost instantly. “I will not talk to Zeus. You will. Now. Go.”

 

Harry finds himself in Zeus’ grand halls, waiting for Zeus to turn around and face him. “Your father says you wish to be mortal. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes. Will you do it for me?”

“Why do you want this?” Zeus asks, looking at Harry carefully. “Tell me why. Exactly why. Do not hold back anything like you are talking to Apollo.”

“I want this because I fell in love. I have never loved anyone the way I love that man. All I want to do is spend the rest of my life with him. I do not want to spend the rest of _his_ life with him, I want to spend the rest of _my_ life with him. This is the only way I know how to do that.”

“You would give up Olympus?”

“If it meant I could be with him, yes,” Harry answers, not hesitating.

“This will greatly disappoint your Father.”

Harry nods. “I already told him that if, after this, when he recounts his children to leave me out of it.”

Zeus laughs, actually, genuinely laughs at Harry. “That was bold of you. I am impressed. I will grant you this, Harry. It does not seem like you are keen on changing your mind. We have all reminded you of what you are giving up and you do not… seem fazed. That hurts me, and it hurts your Father, but we cannot make you stay. While I do not understand completely, I sympathize with you. And I know one day we will all find this sacrifice you are willing to make… admirable.”

“You will make me mortal?” Harry asks, shocked.

“I will. There is nothing more I or your father can do to convince you to stay. Your Mother predicted that you would fall in love with that way of life. It is not like we should be surprised, even though many still are. You will do good things down there, Harry. You are more suited to be a mortal than a God.”

Harry tilts his head curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“You have always been more… fragile than most. Apollo’s other children were rough, they were headstrong, they were trained. You never wanted to be like that. Headstrong, yes, but not… physically. Mentally, yes. You never wanted to pick up swords or throw knives or mess around with the other boys. They lived like they could not be wounded. You never wanted to live that way. Mortals are softer. Mortals can be touched. They are vulnerable. You never lived up to the hardness that Olympus is.”

“It sounds like that is a bad thing.”

“No, it is not.” Zeus shakes his head. “I will make you mortal, Harry. You must do great things. This love that you have found, it is your prophecy. By all intents and purposes you have fulfilled your prophecy, Harry. Your Mother and your Father will found some solace in that, at least.”

“Thank you, Zeus.” Harry says softly, still awed.

“It is the least I can do. I know I am a God, but watching one of my own suffer is not on my list of things I enjoy. You are freed, Harry.”

 _we are here. this_  
 _is what it means to_  
 _swim in the tide, to_  
 _walk the earth and_  
 _feel it touch your_  
 _feet. this is what it_  
 _means to be alive_.

Harry wakes up feeling… lighter. He’s alone in his bed. It’s just like the first time he woke up among mortals. He was alone, he was confused, but he was curious. The second his feet hit the ground, Harry feels _different._ Then he remembers, it hits him, the weight of what happened. Then he thinks: _Louis, Louis, find Louis._

And he gets up. Ventures out of his room, slowly. Rounding the corner, Harry spots Louis in the kitchen, standing over the coffee maker. “Louis,” he breathes.

Louis turns to face him, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “Harry. Holy shit.”

“I’m— what are you doing here?”

“I stopped by to see if you were awake. You were gone for over a week, H, then you were in the bed practically _dead_ for three days. I was so— I was so scared,” Louis chokes out, crossing the kitchen in quick strides to pull Harry into a hug.

“They didn’t tell me that would happen. I’m sorry, that must have been scary.” Harry whispers, kissing Louis’ head.

“It’s over? That’s it?”

Harry nods. “I think so. I’m, um. Mortal.”

“I can’t believe you did that. You were—”

“We can’t talk about what I once was. When my Father lists his children, he’ll leave me out of that list. That’s that.” Harry replies. He finally pulls away, looking Louis in the eye. “We’re going to have to take it one day at a time.”

“Of course we are. But you’ve already jumped into using contractions, so we’re far ahead of where we were last time.” Louis says, and Harry laughs softly, shaking his head. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired. But… relieved.” Harry replies.

“Relieved? Yeah you look…” Louis trails off, a small smile coming onto his face. Harry hums, prompting him to finish his question. “Different. Young. I don’t fucking know, _free.”_

“Before he did it, Zeus told me I was freed. I didn’t realize how chained I was to Olympus until it wasn’t there anymore.”

“Do you think… do you think you’ll miss it?” Louis asks tentatively.

“I think it’s too soon to tell,” Harry says slowly, considering his answer carefully. “I’m just going to take it slow, you know? I’m here and you’re here and… that’s all I need.”

Louis smiles warmly at him, squeezing Harry’s bicep comfortingly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

Harry falls into life as a mortal slowly. It starts with a job at the bookstore across the street from Louis’ shop, because he can’t do much else. After that comes a card of his own, for transactions, for a place to put his money. He moves out of the flat with Liam and in with Louis rather quickly, but it feels right. They fight only once, after a night at a club finds Harry flirting with another guy. He and Louis argued over it, and Louis angrily told him that he’d slept with Zayn before and _that_ pissed Harry off, and Louis slept on the couch. In the morning, Harry apologizes for the club and Louis apologizes for bringing up Zayn and Harry asks if it’s happened since then, and Louis says no, he hasn’t even thought of it.

So, yeah, he falls into it slowly. It comes with a battle around every turn, but Louis is at his side for all of them. Not a day goes by where Louis is not with him, teaching him and supporting him and loving him.

 

“Tell me now if you miss it?” Louis asks, late one night while they’re laying in bed. “I know I asked a while back, and you didn’t want to talk about it. Will you talk about it now?”

Harry sighs, sitting up and looking down at Louis. Louis gazes back up at him, curious and fond and supportive. Harry loves him so fucking much. “I don’t miss it as much as I anticipated. The way they talk about it, the way they value it, I never liked it. It was always lackluster in comparison to anything I had heard about or seen down here, to me. And they thought I was crazy. So, no, I guess I don’t miss it. I’m happy here. With you.”

“You don’t regret it? Giving up immortality for a mortal life in London?” Louis’ voice is soft, innocent, vulnerable.

“Not for a second. I would do it all again without thinking twice. I would give it all up a million times over, in a million different lives, as long as I had you by me every single time.” Harry replies, his voice just as soft. “I would not trade what I have with you for the world. There was never enough on Olympus to make me stay.”

Harry stops talking finally, and Louis looks like he’s about to butt in with an apology, but Harry shakes his head and stops it before it starts. “No, don’t apologize. I’m not sorry for leaving anything behind. I don’t feel bad for my Father. I told him to leave me out of his list of children and I meant it.”  

“I still think it was really brave,” Louis whispers.

“It’s not brave. It’s just… what I had to do,” Harry shrugs. “Can we go to sleep now? I’m still not used to needing sleep.”

Louis laughs softly, beckoning Harry close again. Harry falls into him, pressing a kiss to Louis’ chest. “Little spoon, yeah?” Louis asks softly, already pressing into Harry to get him to roll over.

“Please.” Harry nods. He goes over easily, lets Louis press against his back. Harry grabs Louis’ arm and pulls it across his torso, intertwining their fingers. “I want to meet your family,” Harry whispers.

“They want to meet you too.”

Harry tries to roll over abruptly to look at him, but Louis doesn’t let him. “You already told them about me? They know about me?”

“Of course they do, baby,” Louis hums, kissing the back of Harry’s neck. “I haven’t told them much, just that I’ve been seeing someone and that he’s really great, that I think he’s… _the one._ They’re excited to meet you, but I wanted to wait until you were, you know, ready.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” Harry smiles, pressing his cheek into the pillow to try to hide his smile. “I am ready. I want to meet your family.”

“Okay, we’ll set it up. We can drive up this weekend, if you want. My mum’s always jumping at the chance for me to waste gas and sit in traffic for hours on end. I’ve never had someone to do that drive with.”

“I like car rides.” Harry replies simply. “Stop talking about it, because I’m going to get excited and then I won’t be able to sleep.”

 

********

 

Louis snacks a lot when he drives. They stop once to pee and he buys a shit load of snacks from the store before they get back out. He keeps on asking Harry for the red vines and the chocolates and the crisps and he talks, a _lot._ He talks about his family, gives Harry a rundown of the big family, which Harry is overly excited to meet.

“You’re not nervous?” Louis asks, glancing over at Harry. “Can you grab my cigs from the glove compartment?”

Harry reaches forward and takes them out, handing the pack over. “Not much makes me nervous, Louis.” Harry replies. He watches Louis quickly and efficiently light his cigarette before handing the pack back to Harry. “Aren’t those bad for you?”

“Yes, they are. I’ve tried to quit a dozen times, but it never works. You’re _really_ not nervous?”

“You’re deflecting,” Harry points out. Louis laughs and glances at Harry again, waiting for an answer. “I’m a little nervous, I guess. Worried about your mother liking me and whatnot.”

“Call her mum,” Louis says. Harry gives him a confused look. “She likes to be called mum. Plus, it makes you sound more… _British.”_ he says, gesturing vaguely.

“Mum. I like that.” Harry smiles. “She’ll like that?”

“Yeah. She’ll tell you to call her mum or call her Jay. But she likes when other people call her mum, too. Makes her feel like she’s, I dunno, still got babies even though you’re not a baby and you’re not her kid. It’s weird, but I just roll with it.”

“I’m more excited than nervous.” Harry admits. Louis reaches over the center console and grabs Harry’s hand, squeezing gently.

“She’s going to love you. The girls will, too. Just remember, when my mum offers you alcohol, you can actually get drunk now, so you have to take it easy.”

“What do I say when she asks about my parents?” Harry asks softly, biting his lip. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell her.”

“Um. This is kind of grim, but you can say that they, you know, passed away?” Louis suggests. “It’s not ideal, but I highly doubt we’ll find people willing to be your fake parents.”

“I don’t have a very good concept of death, Louis. I’m not sure I could carry that lie.”

“If it comes up, you just say the passed away and I’ll jump in and tell my mum that prying about things like that aren’t acceptable, and she’ll drop the topic. Or, you know what, so she doesn’t even have to ask you about it, I could pull her aside and talk to her before she gets the chance to talk to you about it.”

“That might work better. But make sure she doesn’t, like, pity me or something.” Harry says, finally looking away from Louis and out the window of the car. “You’ll teach me how to drive one day, right?”

“I could do it right now, if you wanted. We’re mainly just sitting in traffic, it’d be easy.”

“No, maybe not on the…” Harry trails off, looking for a sign that tells him the name of the road they’re on.

“M18.” Louis fills in. “We’re on the M18. And you might be right, you’d probably be better learning on an empty street. I’ll teach you when we’re at my mum’s this weekend, then.”

“I’d like that.” Harry smiles.

“Yeah, my mum will probably get a kick out of it. Watching you learn. And I know I will too, you’ll probably be so confused.” Louis’ already laughing at just the thought of it. Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m fucking with you. I’ll help you. I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“I know you are. I’ve learned a lot from you already. About language and mortals and sex.”

Louis looks over at him, biting his lip. Before he speaks, he flips on his blinker to merge into another lane. “I’ll let you fuck me, you know. One day, when you’re ready.”

“You don’t do it like that very often, do you?” Harry asks curiously. Louis hums questioningly. “Being fucked.”

Louis laughs softly, rubbing his chin. “No, I, uh. I don’t do it like that very often. I just sort of like… being in control. I get a little spacey, kind of like you, when I get fucked and I lose control and I don’t like it. And a lot of guys, once they’ve got their dick in you, they like to take over, you know?”

“Well, no, I don’t know. But I believe you. And I… get it, I guess, in some way. But you’d… you’d let me?”

“Yeah. I love you and I trust you and… you’re not threatening. To my masculinity and my ego and what not. You’re… you know, pliant. I like it like that.”

“I like it like that, too,” Harry says. He _does,_ he’s found that he really likes the way that Louis takes control and takes care of Harry. “Is that… do the people you usually sleep with…”

“Get like you? No one’s like you, Harold. You don’t need me to tell you that.” Louis smiles. “Sometimes, it depends.”

Harry feels like he might be getting a bit uncomfortable, can sense the change in tone of Louis’ voice even though he’s still smiling. “We don’t have to talk about it any longer, if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you talk about your past if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’ll talk about it. I can be open with you about shit like this. I want to tell you things. You’re curious, you don’t know shit about it, and I’m willing to tell you whatever you want to know. How I like it, why I like it, how many guys I’ve slept with — which I’m not gonna lie about the fact that I don’t really know the number — I’ll tell you whatever.”

Harry stares at him, mouth open just slightly. Louis catches sight of this, and lets out a sigh. “You’re concerned about the fact that I don’t know how many guys I’ve slept with. I’m clean, I promise, and none of them were sleazy, I have high standards, I’m sure you know by now. It’s just… I like sex, you know? Ever since I came into who I am, I wanted to explore, get used to who I am. And guys like me, so, like. It was easy.”

“You are easy.” Harry muses.

 _"I’m_ not easy. Other guys are easy. If I weren’t, you know, head over heels in love with you and all, I’d advise you to experiment. You’re pretty. I see the way guys look at you when we’re in the pub or a club.” Louis says. “Ah, we’re finally moving. Thank God.”

The conversation drops off as soon as the speed of the drivers picks up. Harry doesn’t mind, he wasn’t really sure how to reply to Louis’ comment. But Harry notices it, too, when they’re out. When he goes to up to the bar because Louis wants him to interact with people more, guys (and women, for that matter) always come up to Harry and try to flirt with him. Harry often doesn’t notice, he’s become rather immune to other people’s advances when he’s so used to Louis’. He’ll go back to the table and someone will make a snarky comment about Harry reeling in all the guys and Louis’ eyes will go dark, he’ll put a hand on Harry’s thigh or run a toe up his leg if they’re sitting across from each other. They’ll go home not soon after, and Harry will get fucked within an inch of his life.

The car pulls to a stop in a residential area sooner than Harry expected. Louis turns the car off, and Harry turns to look at the house. It looks like any normal house, as far as Harry knows. It’s cute, white picket fence out front and everything.

“This is it,” Louis says finally, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll grab our bags from the trunk and then we can go up. If we don’t get there soon, _they_ come to _us_ and then we’re out here for hours talking.”

They get their bags and Louis leads the way up to the door. “They may ambush you with questions and shit, but I’ll tell them to fuck off if you get too uncomfortable.” Louis says, reaching to open the door.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, though. For being so concerned.” Harry smiles.

As soon as Louis’ opened the door, he grabs Harry’s hand and doesn’t give Harry the choice to stop in the doorway. “Mum! I’m here!”

A woman comes around the corner, big smile on her face. Louis resembles her almost perfectly, Harry’s floored by it. “Lou! I’m so glad you’re here, you don’t come here often enough. And— oh, you’re _Harry,_ then.”

“Yeah. Mum, this is Harry. Harry, this is my mum.”

“Call me Jay, love. It’s so good to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” Jay smiles warmly, shaking Harry’s extended hand. “Come in, put your stuff down. Do you want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m good, thank you, though.” Harry smiles back at her.

“Jeez, mum, let us get settled before you’re drowning us in alcohol.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean alcohol. It’s three in the afternoon,” Jay gives him a harsh look.

“Where are all the girls? It’s awfully quiet.”

“They’re in the back. Charlotte’s giving herself skin cancer, Fiz has joined her. Daisy and Phoebe are occupying the little ones so I can make you a proper dinner.” Jay rattles off. “Dan will be home around five, that’s when we’ll eat.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can go out and get your sisters. I’m going to keep Harry here until you can round them up.”

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, silently asking if it’s alright. Harry nods slightly, squeezing Louis’ hand before letting go and letting Jay take it instead. “Okay, I will go gather the troops.” Louis breathes.

He glances at Harry and Jay one more time before going out into the backyard. Jay takes Harry into the kitchen. “Do you know anything about cooking?” Jay asks, looking at him

“A bit.”

“Okay, then you can sit there,” Jay nods towards a chair across the kitchen island, “and watch and learn. Louis’ told me a bit about you, but not enough, if I’m being honest. He’s a very private person, and from what I can gather, you seem to be the same.”

“He is. And I am, too, I guess.” Harry replies honestly. “What has he told you?”

“Ah, he’s always Harry this and Harry that. Pretty hair and pretty eyes and a damn good set of pipes on him when he sings.” Jay smiles. “You’re a bit of a celebrity around here.”

“Well, Louis talks about you lot quite a bit, too.” Harry says. “I just had to meet you all for myself so I could see what all the fuss was about.”

“There is a big fuss, always. Everything’s a big deal here, it can probably get a little overwhelming at times.”

“I’m used to the fuss. I’m not easily overwhelmed.” Harry tells her. It’s true, he isn’t, he’s lived with Gods on Olympus for decades and he isn’t easily frightened or scared off. Plus, Louis wasn’t scared off when Harry told him what he was, so the least Harry can do is not be too scared by Louis’ family.

“That’s good to know.” Jay says, turning her head to look toward the kitchen doorway. “It’s going to get hectic in here in about ten seconds.”

Harry counts down in his head. Sure enough, on cue, Louis comes through the kitchen door with two young girls on his heels. “You’re Harry!” one of them exclaims, leaning against the counter across from Harry.

“I asked you not to ambush him, Pea. Harry, this is Phoebe, and the one on your other side is Daisy.”

“They’re identical,” Harry says, without thinking. “How do you tell them apart?”

“Some people just call us one name and we both answer.” The one at Harry’s side, Daisy, says in reply.

“She’s lying. You’ll get used to it eventually. For now, Phoebe is in the white shirt.” Louis says. “My mum torturing you with questions?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, course not. Where are the babies?”

Louis laughs softly, looking over his shoulder. “They’re coming in with Lottie and Fiz right now. And they’re not really babies, in fact they hate when you refer to them as such.”

“They’re younger than five, which means I’m going to refer to them as babies.” Harry retorts, standing up. “Your mum tried to enlist me to help her cook but I told her I’m not very good, but you should help her.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling massively. “Oh, is that so? C’mere, we’ll get you cutting shit up in no time.”

“You’ll hold down the fort here?” Jay asks, looking at Louis expectantly. “I’m going to go grab wine from the cellar.”

“Sure, H and I got it.” Louis says, grabbing Harry by the wrist and leading him into the kitchen. “Here,” he hands Harry a knife and puts a pepper in front of him.

Harry makes one slow chop. “Like that?”

“Just like that. More cuts, really dice it up.”

Harry does just as Louis says, really getting the hang of it. He goes through three or four peppers before he feels a sharp pain on the tip of his finger. “Ow,” Harry murmurs, lifting his finger up to look at it. “That’s blood,” he says softly. “I’m bleeding.”

Louis glances up at his sisters, who are sitting at the dinner table looking at their phones and talking. He turns Harry around and pulls him to the sink, turning on the water. “I forgot you’ve never bled before. Does it hurt?”

“Not terribly. I think I still have a relatively high pain tolerance,” Harry says softly. “When will it stop?”

Louis grabs a paper towel, wrapping it around Harry’s finger and squeezing tightly. “Soon. We’ll clean it and put a bandaid on it and you’ll be fine. It’s not the worst cut you could’ve gotten, you should consider yourself lucky.”

“I do,” Harry says. “Thank you.”

“No problemo, Styles.” Louis says cheerfully. “Though you are banned from cutting things indefinitely.”

Jay finally comes back into the kitchen, putting two bottles of red wine on the counter. “What have you done to him?” she asks, looking from Harry’s finger, which Louis is still applying pressure to, and up at Louis’ face.

“I didn’t do it directly. I was teaching Harry how to chop peppers and he cut his finger. No biggie.” Louis shrugs. “I’m gonna steal him and grab a bandaid. Maybe pour us some wine?”

Jay rolls her eyes. “I thought you said it was too early for alcohol, and I’m not your errand boy!” she calls after him.

Louis laughs his whole way down the hallway to the bathroom. “You’re awful,” Harry notes.

Louis points to the toilet seat. “Sit. I’m not awful. She likes the banter. It’s how we operate around here.”

“It is a bit early for alcohol.” Harry says absently, watching Louis throw away the paper towel and crouch down in front of him. He watches the whole process carefully, watches Louis put a dollop of some antibacterial gel on the bandaid before wrapping it around Harry’s finger and kissing it jokingly.

“You need to start learning how to pace yourself. One glass now is a great place to start.” Louis says simply. “C’mon, lets get back out there, mum’s gonna think I was snogging you in the bathroom.”

 

It turns out Harry falls into Louis’ family almost as easily — if not _more_ easily — than he fell into life as a mortal. He makes Jay laugh and answers all of her questions, even the ones that Louis tries to cut off because he deems them to be “inappropriate” and “intrusive”. Harry’s family never really comes up, which Harry has an feeling that Louis pulled his mum aside and told her the agreed upon story. That’s the hardest part so far, Harry thinks, having to come into Louis’ mum’s beautiful house, meet his beautiful family and know that he doesn’t really have one of his own anymore.

“Gonna cut you off after that glass,” Louis murmurs, sitting down beside Harry on the couch. “You’re definitely tipsy and you’re getting all in your head, I can tell. What are you thinking about?”

Harry shakes his head, taking another sip of wine. “Nothing, tell you later,” he replies. He looks over at Louis, who’s smiling warmly with wine-flushed cheeks. The girls have powered up the XBox they apparently got for Christmas last year, Harry thinks he heard them mention, already handing Louis a controller.

“Gonna play Fifa for a bit, can you put my wine on the table?” Louis asks, holding his glass out for Harry to take.

Harry nods, grabbing the glass and sliding it onto a coaster on the table. He falls back into the couch, moving Louis’ arm and leaning against his chest instead. “You can sit like that but you can’t yell at me if I jostle you while I’m playing,” Louis says. “Just a disclaimer.”

“I won’t yell at you,” Harry replies.

“You ready to go, Lou? You’re going down,” Daisy says (yeah, Harry’s got the hang of telling the twins apart, too).

“Oi, Dais, you better watch it!” Louis exclaims, already starting to jostle Harry. Harry downs his glass of wine before Louis spills the whole thing over both of them, then leans forward and sets the glass on the table beside Louis’.

“You have had a few wines, Lou, I don’t know if your skills will be on point.”

“Oh, please, Harold. I know you’ve never played beer pong with me, but my depth perception and athleticism improve tenfold when I’m drunk.” Louis says.

“Okay, we’ll see, babe.” Harry says amusedly.

Louis is, in fact, not bad at Fifa even when he’s intoxicated. Harry’s seen plenty of mortals lose their shit when they’re drunk, including Harry himself, now that he’s mortal. Louis beats Daisy once, but lets Phoebe win when it’s her turn to play. After those two games, Louis passes the controller off to the girls and pulls Harry in properly.

“Have to teach you Fifa sometime soon, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of Harry’s neck. “Got lots to teach you, don’t I?”

Harry nods, squeezing Louis’ thigh. “You do. I’m grateful.”

“Teach you how to drive tomorrow. We’ll go out and I’ll let you drive.” Louis says.

“What are you planning for tomorrow? Anything you want to let your mum and sisters in on?” Jay butts in suddenly, propping a foot up on the coffee table.

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to take Harry on a tour of the town, that’s all. Alone, if at all possible.”

“Well, I’ll be at work for most of the day, but as long as you’re home for dinner…”

Louis laughs. He mirrors his mother’s position, perhaps even without noticing it, but Harry notices it. “I wasn’t asking for permission, mum.”

“Yeah, well. You’re in my house again that means you’re running things by me again.” Jay shrugs. “I’m just trying to stay updated on your life. Ever since you moved to London and became a hotshot… tattoo artist?”

“Yup, that’s me. Hotshot tattoo artist.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry’s gonna let me start giving him tattoos one day soon, right, love?”

Harry nods. “Lou does really great work. It’s all beautiful. I go and watch him sometimes.”

“So I’ve been told. The only way I see any of Louis’ work is through their Instagram page, I’ve never been given… a personal showing,” Jay says, sounding disappointed.

“Mum, you know I don’t like showing or talking about my stuff. It makes me feel weird.”

“Well, you show it to Harry. Why can’t you show it to your old mum?”

Louis exhales heavily, sounding like he’s starting to get annoyed. “Harry is different. I don’t want to show you the ass piece I’m working on for a girl with her tongue pierced, beautiful as it may be.”

Jay rolls her eyes, but she drops the subject. They make small talk for awhile more, until Jay makes Daisy and Phoebe go to their rooms and sleep because it’s getting late, and Louis decides he’s going to pull Harry up and bring him to bed.

“We’re not having sex in your mum’s house,” Harry says as Louis shuts the bedroom door behind him. Harry glances around the room; pale blue walls with various band and sports memorabilia scattered on dressers and the walls. There’s a framed photograph of Louis and his mum on the nightstand, which strikes something strange in Harry.

“I never said we were,” Louis laughs, sitting down on the bed. “Admiring small Louis’ shit?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Harry says softly. “It’s weird, seeing your whole life laid out here.”

“Wanna see some really cool old shit?” Louis asks amusedly, getting up and moving to one of the dresser drawers. “I’ve told you I used to play footie, yeah? Well, Zayn and I worked for this nonprofit when we were younger. Interned, technically, I guess, but whatever. They had, like, a little footie league and sometimes we’d play games for fun or against other nonprofits, and we got jerseys.”

Louis produces a black shirt with a logo on it. When he turns it around, Louis’ last name is scrawled out on the back over the number seventeen. Harry can’t help but break out into a grin as he steps forward to touch a hand to the silky material. “I figured you’d get a kick out of this. Tomorrow night my mum will probably break out the photo album and you’ll love that, too.”

“I don’t have any photos,” Harry whispers, the realization hitting him hard. He moves back to sit on the bed, his smile gone. “Of myself, as a child. I don’t even remember _being_ a child, the children of Gods grow up so quickly, all of a sudden Calliope had just stunted my aging.”

“H…” Louis starts, sitting down next to him.

“I know I told you I did not miss it, that nothing up there was enough to make me stay, and that part is still true. But I guess I do miss it, just a bit. Makes me thinks about Calliope. Never about Apollo, but always about my Mother.”

“I can tell that you do.” Louis whispers, putting a hand on Harry’s arm comfortingly. “Whenever you talk about it, you stop using contractions and you talk like you did when I first met you. There’s still a piece of it in you, somewhere. And that’s okay, love. You did something so mind blowing, so brave, so spontaneous, there’s no _way_ you’re not going to feel a little something over it. Sentimental, or something. As long as you don’t feel guilty.”

“I don’t think I do,” Harry says slowly, trying to focus on his contractions now that Louis has pointed it out. “Feel guilty, I mean. I just… seeing you with _your_ mum and knowing that I don’t have one makes me feel…” he trails off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence.

“Bad?” Louis fills in simply. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I was just so excited about having you meet my family—”

“No, no, no.” Harry says quickly, angling his body towards Louis. “Please don’t apologize, don’t feel bad because of my weird mommy and daddy issues. I was excited to meet them too, and I’m so fucking happy that I did. It’s just making me think about stuff, you know? But please, _please_ don’t feel bad.”

Louis nods, grabbing Harry’s hand in his own. “I just didn’t think about how it’d be for you to see my mum all over me.”

“My mother just… she never wanted to meet you, she never tried. And I don’t even think I can talk to her anymore.” Harry sniffs, trying to force his tears to go away. “I’m sorry, fuck. I don’t wanna cry in your childhood bedroom while slightly tipsy on wine.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to apologize, you’re not allowed to apologize either.” Louis says.

“Okay. No apologies, then.” Harry says. He clears his throat, moving to the head of the bed with Louis following in pursuit. “Still no coitus in your mother’s house.”

“Damn.” Louis hisses through his teeth. “I thought for sure you’d need a little something to make you happy. Also, please never refer to it as coitus again.”

“No. Talking to you makes me happy.”

“Could we maybe, I dunno, make out a bit? Hickies are still fun.” Louis suggests, already nosing against Harry’s neck.

“Ugh, fine. _Only_ mouth stuff. Above the waist.” Harry says finally.

Louis cheers softly, victoriously, pulling Harry in closer to him. Harry swings his leg over Louis’ hips so he’s straddling him properly. He captures Louis’ lips in a slow kiss as soon as he’s upright. Louis hums softly, hand winding in Harry’s hair to tilt him how he pleases. Harry lets it happen, like always, because he wants it, likes it. Louis breaks the kiss after a few long, long minutes. He presses a kiss to the hinge of Harry’s jaw before sucking gently.

“Hickies were a bad idea,” Harry says, feeling Louis’ hips jerk up.

“Why do you say that?” Louis asks, his lips still brushing Harry’s neck.

“Because hickies get you riled up.” Harry replies simply, sitting up straight and looking at Louis pointedly. “Even if you're not the one getting them, they get you riled up.”

“Baby, if you don’t let me take your pants off, I’m going to make it my mission to make you come in them.” Louis says decidedly.

“Ugh.” Harry groans, moving to undo the button on his jeans.

“Stop fuckin’ groaning over it, love. Make it sound like your boyfriend wanting to get in your pants and make you come is a _chore_ for you.”

“I didn’t know being with your mum all day was such an aphrodisiac for you.”

“Oh, God. Don’t say it like that.” Louis groans, propping himself up on both elbows and watching as Harry sheds his jeans. He reaches forward and starts to pull Harry’s shirt up over his head, a big smile on his face the whole time. “It’s not that part of the scene that gets me… it’s the thought of, like, having all of this with you.”

“You always get sappy when you get to get me off.” Harry croons, kissing down the column of Louis’ throat.

“Mhm. I just like making my boy happy.” Louis hums happily.

********

Harry wakes up in an empty bed. It’s smaller than the bed they have at home, so it’s not very difficult to feel that the bed is empty. Harry gets up, trekking quietly to the bathroom to pee and get washed up. He stares at the hickey at the hinge of his jaw, which he had hoped would go away, but apparently has not faded, before he goes back to the bedroom to get changed. He pulls on a pair of jeans (he doesn’t know what Louis’ plans are, despite it being only nine in the morning) and, after a moment of consideration, he puts on the footie jersey that Louis showed him last night.

Louis and Jay are sitting at the table, mugs of tea in their hands, talking about something Harry doesn’t know the specifics of. But Louis stops talking as soon as he sees Harry standing in the kitchen, smiling softly. “Hi, H. Want coffee or tea?”

“Tea’s fine, how you take it.” Harry answers, smiling back at him.

“Here.” Louis stands up, sliding his mug towards Harry. “Finish that one off, I’ll get some for myself.” he kisses Harry’s cheek on his way over to the kettle.

“How’d you sleep, love?” Jay asks, watching Harry closely as he sits across the table from her in the seat Louis was previously sat in.

“I slept well, thank you.” Harry smiles at her. He keeps one hand on his tea and the other raised to his neck, trying to cover up the hickey on his neck and save himself and Louis a world of embarrassment.

“Good thing we got a new mattress in there, could use a bigger bed altogether, though.” Louis notes, pulling out a chair next to Harry. He angles it toward Harry, rather than facing towards his mother, and locks his ankle with one of Harry’s underneath the table. “But, that’s a problem for next time.”

“Yeah, you wanna be the one to pay for a new bed?” Jay scoffs.

Louis laughs, taking a sip from his new cuppa. “Ah, hot. Shit.” he murmurs, putting the mug down again.

Harry stifles a laugh in his own drink, repositioning his cover on his neck. “Mine’s nice and warm.”

“That’s ‘cause it was mine first, dick. I gave it up to you.” Louis says under his breath. “We still on for the _Tour de Doncaster?”_ Louis asks, looking at Harry expectantly.

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Of course.”

“The _Tour de Doncaster_ , huh?” Jay muses. “What does that entail, exactly?”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno. Show Harry a bunch of different places around here. The school, the bakery, the park.”

“Ah, I see. Sounds like it’ll be fun.” Her voice is still airy, teasing in nature, but Louis’ smiling so Harry gets the hint that he should be, too. “When will you be heading off?”

“After we shower and stuff, I guess. The girls really aren’t awake yet?”

“They probably are, likely sitting in their rooms on their phones.” Jay sighs, shaking her head. “Those damn phones, they’d be on them all the time if they could.”

“Spoken like a true mother,” Louis says amusedly, laughing softly.

Harry finishes his mug of tea before anyone speaks again. He sets the mug back down on the table and leans back in his chair, looking between Louis and his mother. They look so similar, Louis has her kind eyes and smile. And they get along great, have the same sense of humor and Harry has a hunch they have the same stubbornness, too.

“You’ve zoned out a bit, love. Wanna go up and get ready to go?” Louis asks, looking at Harry carefully.

Harry nods, standing up. “You go up, I’ll put the mugs in the sink,” Louis says softly, grabbing Harry’s mug before Harry gets the chance to do it himself.

Jay smiles at him on his way out of the kitchen. Upstairs, Harry gathers some of his clothes and puts them in a pile at the end of the bed to change into when he gets out after the shower. Louis comes in a few minutes later, grabbing Harry’s waist.

“I like the way you look in my shirt. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that while my mum was sitting there watching us like a hawk.” Louis murmurs, kissing the back of Harry's neck. “My mum did mention the shirt, though. Said it suited you.”

“You and your mum were talking about me?” Harry asks, spinning around to face him.

“Yeah, of course. Mum loves to gossip.” Louis says, shrugging.

“Great. Well, um. I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay with you?” Harry asks, looking at Louis carefully.

Louis nods immediately, stepping aside and releasing his grip so Harry can go to the bathroom. “Call me if you need me. Towels are in the cabinet by the door in the bathroom.”

Harry finds the towels in the bathroom easily, setting one on the toilet seat lid for himself before taking his shirt and pants off and dropping them on the floor. He steps in front of the shower, looking at the knobs to turn the water on. It occurs to him that this looks different than the shower he used at Liam’s, even the one at Louis’.

“Shit,” Harry murmurs. He treks to the door and opens it a crack, sticking just his head out. “Lou?”

Louis’ head appears outside his bedroom door just a moment later. “Yeah, babe?”

“I’m— come here? Just for a quick sec.” Harry says, biting his lip. “Quickly, please.”

A smirk grows on Louis’ face as he comes down the hall. He comes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, looking at Harry expectantly. “I had to persuade you to let me get you off last night and now you’re okay with this?”

“First of all, you’re _easy,_ I didn’t call you in here to get off.” Harry rolls his eyes. “I called you in here to help me turn on the shower because I don’t know how this one works.”

Louis’ smirk fades, but he still looks amused. “Right. Of course.”

“You didn’t deny that you were easy,” Harry notes.

Louis scoffs, leaning into the shower. “On, off.” he points. “That makes the water come out of the stupid fancy setting thing, but you won’t need that. Unless you want me to show it to you…”

“Louis, we are not _showering_ together. You’ve already given me a massive hickey that I’m struggling to hide from your mother, we’re not showering together.” Harry says firmly. “Not happening, you’re not convincing me again.”

“Harold, you might be just as easy as I am.”

“I’m definitely not. _I_ need convincing to let you get me off in your mother's house. _You_ need me calling your name and then you come running down the hall.” Harry defends. “Please leave me so I can shower without you trying to get your fingers up my arse.”

“Mhm, that’s more than what I was going to ask for.” Louis grunts, pinching Harry’s hip. “When you get changed, you should put my shirt back on.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it. Now leave.” Harry says, pushing Louis towards the door.

Louis looks at him, proper puppy dog eyes look, before he shuts the door behind him, slowly, like he thinks Harry is going to change his mind. Harry sighs once he’s gone, trying to will away his arousal. He’s not _easy,_ definitely not as easy as Louis is.

He gets the shower turned on and strips out of his boxers before stepping in. When he goes to reach for his body wash and shampoo, Harry realizes he didn’t bring it in with him. “Ah, fuck.” he mutters. He looks at the selection already lining the shower and reaches for the one that looks most like Louis’. Just before he cracks it open, there’s a knock at the door and it cracks open.

“H? You forgot your nice foamy shampoos and shit in the bedroom, thought you’d need them.” Louis says.

Harry sticks his head out the shower door, looking at Louis. He’s standing there without a shirt on, holding Harry’s bag in his hand. “Thank you. I was just about to use one that looked like yours, you must be a mind reader or something.”

“You _really_ don’t want me to come in there with you? It’s a… strange shower, I could, you know, show you the ropes.” Louis winks, his hand reaching down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Lou, please leave.” Harry says. “Actually, first can you pass me my stuff?”

Louis whines, proper like a child, and unzips Harry’s bag. He hands him the body wash and shampoo before dropping the bag on the counter by the sink.

“You’re not getting in this shower, Louis. Not while I’m in it, at least. And when you come back from your shower and we’re both in the room, you’re taking a coin and rolling out this hickey in my neck.”

Louis laughs out loud, shaking his head in disbelief. “How do you even know that’s a _thing?”_

“Because I had to look it up one time after particularly bad hickies. Just— leave? Please? Baby, I love you, but please leave.”

“I’m going, God.” Louis grumbles.

Harry breathes a sigh of relief when Louis shuts the door behind him. He finally gets cleaned up in peace, spending extra time on his hair. When he’s all rinsed off, Harry turns the water off and dries off as best he can before tying the towel around his waist. He gathers his clothes and toiletries and sticks his head out in the hallway, seeing the coast clear for the trek to Louis’ room.

Halfway there, another bedroom door opens and Harry walks smack into Lottie, Louis’ eldest sister, if he remembers the lineup correctly (which he definitely does). “Shit, sorry.” She says quickly, taking a step back. “Oh. Well.”

“Sorry, I’m— shower. Back to Louis’ room.” Harry fumbles to explain, much to Lottie’s amusement.

“I figured that, thank you. I understand why he kept you a secret for so long.”

Harry cocks his head to the side, looking at her curiously. “Why’s that?”

“Because you look like _this_. He knew we’d never stop bothering him if we knew you looked like this.”

Harry laughs, feels himself blush. “I’m just gonna— Louis’ room.”

Lottie nods slowly, a smile creeping onto her face. “Okay, I’ll catch you both later, then.”

As soon as he’s in the room, Harry slams the door shut and presses his back to it. “I just saw your sister. Lottie. In the hall.”

Louis looks up from his phone, an eyebrow arched. “Okay?”

“I look like this.”

“Yeah, you look hot. So what? It’s just Lottie.” Louis shrugs, standing up and dropping his phone on the bed. “I’m going to shower and then I can either try to _roll_ the hickey out of your neck, or we can get Lots to cover it up. She’s a makeup guru.”

“Okay, we’ll try something. But I can’t keep it hidden from your mum for much longer, I haven’t got long hair anymore.” Harry says.

Louis smiles, pecking Harry quickly on the lips before leaving the room. Harry sighs heavily, running a hand through his still-damp hair. He makes sure the door is locked before he takes his towel off and starts to get dressed. Before picking a shirt, he remembers what Louis said about the footie jersey and he pulls that on. He sits down on the bed after unlocking the door, reaching from there into his suitcase for a headscarf to hold his hair back from his face. He scrolls through his phone on some of the social apps Louis made him download (he still doesn’t quite understand them) until the door opens and Louis comes in.

“Hey. I bumped into Lottie in the hall, too, and she said she’ll cover your hickey. It doesn’t even look that bad anymore, love. But if that would make you more comfortable, then she’s happy to do it.” Louis smiles, thumbing over the mark on Harry’s jaw.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“I like the scarf look, have I told you that before?” he asks, taking his towel off and turning to the dresser.

“I mean, probably.”

“Fits better than the crown,” Louis says absently, pulling on a pair of boxers.

Harry smiles sadly, nodding. “I know it does.”

He watches Louis as he gets dressed, then Louis takes a moment to kiss him gently. “I’m gonna grab Lottie, okay? She’ll probably give you shit about it, but don’t take any of it to heart, yeah? I’ll tell her to fuck off.”

Harry nods again. “Thank you.”

Louis ducks out of the room, returns a few minutes later with Lottie and a bag of makeup supplies. “Don’t worry, I’m a pro at this.” Lottie says, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “C’mon, face me.”

Harry does as she asks, mocking her position. “You’re a pro at this?”

Lottie hums, nodding. “Just don’t talk, hold still, and let me do all the work.”

“Ugh, Lottie, I don’t want to hear that you’re a pro at covering up hickies,” Louis whines, moving to the inside of the bed and sitting against the wall, his left foot coming behind Harry’s back.

“My services are helping you right now, you shouldn’t be complaining,” Lottie singsongs. “So, Harry Styles, what’s your story? Besides the nice hair and the sense of humor and the pretty looks.”

“Oh, um, I haven’t got one.” Harry says. “I thought you didn’t want me to talk.”

Lottie laughs softly, picking up another soft brush from the bag. “You’re right, I did say that. He’s smart, Lou, I’ll give you that much.”

“Yeah, he is.” Louis says, voice soft.

Harry tries to look over at him, but Lottie grabs his jaw and turns his face back to her. “Don’t talk, hold still.” she reiterates. “He’s smart but somehow he’s shit at following directions.”

Louis laughs, and so does Lottie. “Okay,” she sighs, sitting back. “You no longer have a hickey. Do you want to see?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I trust you.” Harry says. “Thank you, I didn’t want to have to hide that from your mum all day.”

“Ah, she wouldn’t care. She’d make fun of you, sure. But you’re grown-ass men, it’s not like she can… _do_ anything about it.” Lottie shrugs, zipping her bag shut. “Now that I don’t need you to stay quiet anymore, what’s your story?”

“Like I said, I haven’t got one.”

Lottie rolls her eyes. “Please, Styles. Everyone’s got a story.”

“It’s… just like anyone else’s.” Harry shrugs, looking over at Louis, hoping he gets the hint to step in because Harry isn’t quite sure how to answer these questions without sounding suspicious.

“Jeez, Lots. You know, you and mum are both so intrusive. Give my boyfriend a break, okay?” Louis groans. “We appreciate your makeup skills, but if you could get out of my room now, that would be fantastic.”

Lottie gets up, shooting Louis a rather intimidating glare, then giving Harry a nice smile before she leaves and shuts the door behind her. “I know you don’t really know how to answer those questions,” Louis says apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’m just a shit liar, so I’ll have to practice.” Harry says simply. “Are we ready to go?”

Louis nods. “I’ve just gotta put on my shoes and find my cigs and then we can go.”

“They’re still in the car, you didn’t bring them in when we came inside yesterday.” Harry tells him.

“Oh, shit, you’re right. That’s my attempt at cutting down. Sometimes if I think I need a smoke I won’t want to go all the way out to the car to get them. It works sometimes.” Louis shrugs.

They get ready to go, Louis giving his mum another shotty explanation before they’re out the door. “Where are you bringing me to practice?” Harry asks once they’re on the road, looking over at Louis.

“We’re going to get you comfortable in the parking lot behind the school — which isn’t in session right now — and then once you’ve gotten the hang of it, _you’re_ going to drive us around on the tour of Donny.” Louis says. “You’re going to do it just fine, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly. You’re crazy smart, probably all of those Olympus brains.”

“Yeah, that probably has something to do about it.”

“Fuck, sorry, I should probably stop bringing it up.”

“No, it’s fine. I know it’s kind of a big part of who I am. The only part, really. I kind of just want to tell your whole family, but I feel like that’s not something I should do. I can’t expect everybody do be so… accepting of it as you are.”

“You think it didn’t blow my fucking mind?” Louis asks, laughing. “You think it _still_ doesn’t blow my fucking mind? Every single day I ask myself _what the fuck_ and if I hadn’t witnessed Apollo on my balcony, I would think that I’m crazy.”

“I know, I figured it was still like that for you.” Harry says, voice going quiet.

Louis drops the subject after that. They drive in silence for a while, until Louis pulls off into a parking lot. “See? Empty. Alright, get out, buckle in over here.” Louis says, already undoing his seatbelt and opening his door.

Harry does the same, falling into the driver seat. “Okay.” Louis breathes, buckling his seatbelt. Harry buckles his as well. “So, first thing you’re gonna do is stick the key into the ignition and turn it until the car starts. You’ve seen me do it a hundred times, no reason why you shouldn’t be able to manage that, it’s the easiest part.”

Harry listens to Louis’ instructions, starting the car up. “Okay, what now?”

“Hands on the wheel. Everybody says ten and two, but I kind of think that’s bullshit. But we’ll start there, just to get you to learn.” Louis says. “Then you’re gonna look down at the pedals and tell me which one the gas is.”

“You know I have no fucking clue which one is which, right?”

Louis laughs, leaning over the console to point. “The narrow one is the gas, see? And the wider one is the brake… think of it like the wider one is the more important one, because it’s the one that’ll stop the car.” Louis says. “And when you’re ready, just ease your foot onto the gas. Just put us to a slow crawl, love. Speed will come later, but you probably won’t be speed racing any time soon.”

Harry tentatively presses his foot on the gas, and the car starts to inch forward. “There you go, you’re doing it. Give us a little more power now.” Louis coaxes.

“I can’t believe I’m driving.” Harry says disbelievingly.

“As you’re coming up on the curve in the parking lot you’re going to turn the wheel to the left, just like you’ve seen me do a hundred times when turning literally anywhere.” Louis explains, watching Harry’s movements carefully as he makes the turn. “And we’ll just keep going around in circles here until you feel comfortable enough to go out on the road.”

They do just that, Harry kind of loses track of the time, Louis sitting beside him with a foot on the seat and his hand pressed to Harry’s seat, sometimes making commentary or tips or votes of confidence. He reaches for his cigarettes at one point, lighting one and leaning back in his seat, his eyes still on Harry.

“You’re doing great, babe. Wanna take it on the road?” he asks, dropping his pack of cigarettes in the cupholder.

“The— the road? Where there’s other cars? And stop lights and passersby?” Harry asks quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Do another few laps and then head out of the parking lot, hang a left.”

Harry exhales heavily, nodding. He goes around the parking lot a few more time, his speed picked up from before, and pulls to a stop at the exit of the parking lot. He gets a weird feeling, suddenly, but it isn’t nerves about driving, isn’t nerves about acting as normal as possible around Louis’ mother, it’s not anything like that. It’s the same feeling he gets when his _mother_ visits, but this time it feels more strange than normal.

“What is it?” Louis asks, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “Are you nervous? Don’t be, love, you’ll be fine. If you get too stressed just stop the car and I’ll hop over.”

“I, um. You’re going to think that I am crazy, but I think my mother is here,” Harry says, swallowing hard. “Well, not necessarily _here._ But around.”

Louis does, not to Harry’s surprise, give him a confusing look. “She’s… here? Where? I don’t— I don’t see anyone.”

“She’s just… she’s watching. I know— I know you wanted to have me drive us, but I don’t think I can.” Harry whispers, looking straight ahead.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, love. Just— get out, I’ll drive us, it’s fine.” Louis says quickly. He gets out of the car immediately, rounding the front with his cigarette in his mouth. He opens the door and motions for Harry get out.

Harry gets up, walking around to the other side while looking around for any trace of his mother anywhere. “Lou, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got weird—”

“Nope, stop. We’re not apologizing over Olympus things,” Louis says firmly. “I don’t doubt you when you say that your mother is here. It wouldn’t surprise me, not even a bit. And you’re right to get weird about it.”

“I didn’t think— I did not think she’d still come, that she was even allowed.” Harry says, shaking his head. “I still… I do not know if she can see me, talk to me, I mean, but, uh. She is definitely here.”

“Alright, love, that’s fine. Start using contractions again, speak like a normal human person.” Louis says, putting both hands on the wheel, the cigarette still in between his middle and index fingers. “Fuck, sorry, smoke coming in the car,” he says quickly, tossing the rest of the cigarette out the window.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t going to complain.”

“You never do.” Louis shakes his head. “Complain, I mean. You don’t complain very often. I mean, you were suffering up there with all those Gods for so long, then you come down here and you start a feud with your family over what you want to do and you… you did the complete opposite of what they wanted. You took your fate into your own hands and you’re _mortal_ now. That blows my fucking mind, Harry. That you went from seeing everything in every single person’s life to now only experiencing _this_ life. And you don’t complain about it. You met me and you gave up everything that you were supposed to have and sometimes that keeps me up at night because it’s absolutely insane to me. but you never complain. You never complain about anything. Not my smoke or how loud the club gets and how foreign that is to you. Not anything, ever.”

Harry looks over at him, full of shock and fear and admiration. “It keeps you up at night?”

Louis shrugs, flicking the blinker on. “I mean, sometimes, I guess. It’s a lot, you know? And I’m getting used to it, but every time I have to explain something earthly and mortaly to you it just reminds me who you are, where you came from, what you sacrificed to be here with me.”

“You never really questioned it,” Harry tells him.

“What do you mean?”

“When Apollo came and I told him I was in love with you, that I thought you were my prophecy. I told you that was my belief after he left and you didn’t question it.” Harry says. “You never asked me how I knew or anything. You kept on letting me get to know you and kept on getting to know me until I told you I loved you and that I wanted to be with you. You didn’t ask any questions when I said you were my prophecy.”

“I think it’s because… I think it’s because I knew, too.” Louis says slowly. Harry studies him carefully, seeing how Louis’ brows are scrunched together in thought, like he’s choosing his words extremely carefully. “I met you at the bar and again in the coffee shop. And then you actually _came_ to the bar when I asked if you’d be there. And you didn’t stand me up for coffee even though I know now you don’t really like drinking coffee. You kept on… showing up. But I think I knew the second I met you in that shitty pub that I wanted you. That you were different. That I wasn’t just going to be able to sleep with you one night and forget about you.”

“You knew. In what way did you _know,_ may I ask?”

“Not that you were from Olympus. I knew you were going to be different for me. You were – are – so pretty and captivating and there was no way I was walking away from you. I knew I’d fall in love with you. See, you guys have prophecies up there. Down here, we call it fate. And I think it’s a load of bullshit most of the time. But when…” Louis trails off, taking a deep breath. “When I met you at the pub, I felt like fate was controlling us. It’s what drew me to you.”

“Louis.” Harry says, almost breathless. The car pulls to a stop, but Harry barely even feels it, just feels like he’s floating. “You knew?”

“You’re not a difficult person to fall in love with, Harold.” Louis replies, his voice back to normal banter-mode. “Alright. This is the arcade where we spent all of our time growing up. We’d ride our bikes down here and spend the whole night, until they closed and kicked us out. There’s a movie theatre right across the street, so this is a _prime_ first date spot.”

“First date, huh? This where you would pull out all the stops?” Harry asks.

“Obviously.” Louis scoffs, getting out of the car. Harry goes to do the same, but stops when he sees Louis holding a hand up while he comes to the passenger side. “First step is to open their door. Then we’d go into the movie theatre, do the whole arm around her shoulder bit,” Louis says, demonstrating by slinging an arm around Harry as they walk towards the arcade. “Probably end up snogging at some point. But we’re not going to go to the movies, too time-consuming, too much money. The arcade, though. That’s where the magic happened. Because you’d bring your date in and you’d play games and they’d get excited and you’d win them a teddy bear.”

“Are you gonna win me a teddy bear?” Harry asks, sticking his bottom lip out playfully.

Louis laughs, gently pinching Harry’s lip between two fingers. “I can win you a teddy bear if that’s what you want.”

They’re the oldest people in the arcade actually playing the games by a landslide, but neither of them care very much about that. Harry forgets about his mother for the entire time that they’re in there. Louis wins Harry a teddy bear, gives it to him with a kiss and a playful pinch to his arse, before they make their way out of the arcade.

Harry stops dead in his tracks as soon as they step outside, his eyes locked on a woman across the street. “That’s her.” he says lowly.

“What?”

“Calliope. Right there.” Harry nods toward the woman outside the movie theatre. “The one with… the one with the eyes.”

“I would hope she has eyes, Harold.” Louis says, clearly trying to keep the conversation light. “I still don’t see who— oh. _Oh._ Are you sure?”

Harry nods. “I’m— I’m going over there.”

“What’re you gonna do? Walk up to her and ask her? What if that’s not even her?”

“If it is her, she will follow me.” Harry says.

“You can’t just—”

“She has taken enough. I have let them all take enough of me. She will not have this as well.” Harry replies.

He doesn’t wait another second before walking across the street. The woman locks eyes with him as Harry steps underneath the overhang of the theatre, where the woman follows him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, turning around to face her. “Why are you watching me? Following me?”

“Harry, I—”

“No, Calliope. No. I am trying to move on with my life. I have Louis. I’m here meeting his _family,_ Calliope. I am trying to be someone else, adjust to this massive change, get used to the fact that I am going to be facing death someday.” Harry says angrily, trying to keep his voice low as they’re in public and he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. “I do not need to be _feeling_ you around me while Louis is trying to teach me how to operate a motor vehicle or running into you while I am getting to know him and his life. I did not even think you could _come_ here now that I am no longer a God, I did not think you could _see_ me any longer.”

“I can do whatever I damn well please, Harry. And I am just— I am just checking in on you. Seeing how you are doing. I miss you sometimes, Harry. Are you going to penalize me for that?”

“Yes, Calliope, I might. I am trying to be someone. I cannot do that if you are hanging around every corner.”

“I am sorry, Harry. I did not think—”

Harry cuts her off again, this time laughing harshly. “Exactly. You did not think. You rarely do. I am happy now. I have everything that I want and Louis tries _so_ hard all the time, Calliope. He never gets angry with me when I do not understand things and whenever I say something about where I am from, he asks curious questions and does not look at me like I am crazy. I told him he was my prophecy and he hardly even questioned it, just dove right into the deep end with me. I am trying to move on. I cannot do that until you stop following me everywhere I go.”

Calliope sighs, looking at him carefully. She glances over at Louis across the street, who’s leaning against his car, just staring at the two of them. “That is him, I presume? The boy watching us like a hawk?”

“Yes, that is him. Louis.” Harry says softly, looking away from Louis and back at Calliope.

“He understands? Who you are— _were_.”

“Yes, Calliope. Can you leave me now? Stop coming, stop hovering. Let me live this life, Calliope, let me go.”

Calliope sighs with tears in her eyes, nodding. “Okay, Harry. I am… I am proud of you.”

Harry nods curtley. Then he turns and walks back across the street to Louis. “Hey, bub, everything okay?” Louis asks immediately, reaching out to put a hand on Harry’s arm.

Harry dodges his grip, going right for the passenger side of the car. “Please just— bring me to the next stop on your tour. I do not want to… please, Lou. Can we just go to the next place?”

Louis nods immediately, opening his car door. “Are you, like, okay?”

“Yes, I am fine. Where are we going next?”

“I was, um, going to take you to a tattoo parlor, the one I first got tattooed at, and I was going to let you get one— they might even let me do it, if they’re feeling generous. But now that you’re, you know, emotional—”

“No, no. That sounds good. I want to go, want to let you give me a proper tattoo.” Harry says quickly. “You really think they’ll let you?”

Louis shrugs. “They gave me quite a few before I moved to London and got the gig at the shop with Zayn. We’re all still close”

Harry nods. “Cool, cool.”

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Louis asks, glancing over at him.

“You have that, um, that dagger? And daggers often go with roses, you know? It is for, like, the duality of life or something. Seems like a very mortal concept. I like the thought. How they are polar opposites but they come together. And you— you already have the dagger, so I kind of wanted to get the rose.”

“You want to get a… _complementary_ tattoo?” Louis asks, sounding short of breath. “You’ve, like, thought about that?”

“Sometimes. When you fall asleep sometimes I just watch you, you know? And I trace my fingers over your tattoos but you never wake up from it. But I think about what they would look like on me. I have favorites, on you, ones that I think need companions. And I would get them, all of them. But the dagger might be my favorite, and I have come to find that I like roses.” Harry explains, a bit long-winded, but Louis doesn’t cut him off at any point.

“It’ll be kind of big, love. It’ll take, like, two hours.” Louis warns. He’s being precautionary, warning Harry of what he’s getting into, but he has a small smile on his face. “Are you sure you want that?”

“Yes. You asking me a hundred times will not make me change my mind, I would think that you would know that by now.” Harry says disapprovingly, teasingly.

Louis laughs, nodding. “I guess I do know that. But I’m just warning you, Harold.”

“You do not need to warn me.” Harry says. “I am well aware of the risk.”

_we were like gods_   
_at the dawning of_   
_the world, and our_   
_joy was so bright_   
_we could see nothing_   
_else but the other._

“You got a _tattoo?”_ Jay asks, grabbing Harry by the wrist to look at the bandage on his arm. “That was your _Tour de Doncaster?_ You went and got him a tattoo?”

“Gave it to him, actually. Went to the place where they always did mine before I moved to London. It didn’t take nearly as long as I anticipated, but I guess I’m good at what I do,” Louis shrugs, big grin on his face as he reaches into the bowl of grapes that’s sitting on the kitchen island.

 _"Y_ ou were the one that did it? You let him do that?” Jay looks at Harry with wide eyes.

“He’s good at what he does,” Harry says simply, looking at Louis with a small smile of his own. “I want them, I like them. I didn’t mind the surprise. Plus, Louis payed for it, so.”

Jay laughs, pinching Louis’ arm as he walks by. “You’ve got yourself a sugar baby, it sounds like.”

“Ugh, mum.” Louis groans, rolling his eyes and throwing a grape stem at her on her way out of the room. As soon as Jay is gone, Louis looks up at Harry. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“What?” Harry asks. He keeps his eyes locked on the bowl of grapes that Louis is eating from.

“Your mum visiting. Calliope.” Louis says slowly, like he’s got to say it dumb because all of a sudden Harry’s a half-wit.

“I didn’t want to talk about it.” Harry murmurs. “I _don’t_ want to talk about it. She came and now she’s gone and she won’t come back again.”

“I thought she couldn’t even see you anymore,” Louis frowns.

“I thought that too, but when I asked her she said she can do whatever she wants and I told her.” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I told her to stop seeing me because I am trying to have a new life, trying to learn how to be normal and I cannot do that if I keep on feeling her around.”

“You told your mum to fuck off?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. “Yeah, if you can believe that. I told her in nicer terms, for whatever that is worth.”

“Start talking like a normal human person again, babe. She’s gone, you’re fine.” Louis says comfortingly. “How’s the tattoo?”

“Oh, um. It’s fine.”

“You still handle the pain unbelievingly well. It’s hot,” Louis says, smirking.

“Ugh, shut up.” Harry grunts, leaning both elbows on the countertop. Louis laughs, leaning forward and pushing a grape against Harry’s lips until he opens up. “I don’t really like grapes.”

“Oh, come on. You’re from Olympus and you don’t like grapes? Isn’t that, like, a big thing? Lounging on fancy chairs and getting fanned by pretty nymphs and being hand-fed grapes?”

“You know what nymphs are?”

Louis shrugs, feeding Harry another grape. “I had a basic understanding, but since I met you I started reading more. About, like, Greek mythology and stuff.”

“First of all, grapes have nothing to do with Olympus. With Dionysus, maybe, being the God of wine and whatnot, maybe that’s where the grapes come into play. Second of all, anything you want to know about Olympus, I can tell you. The stuff that won’t be in _The Odyssey_ or in any other books about Greece.” Harry says with a smile, nipping Louis’ finger gently before he pulls away from another grape-deposit.

Louis smiles at him, nodding. “I’d love a crash course on Olympus.”

“I’ll give one to you one day, then.” Harry smiles even bigger. “Know what your mum has planned for dinner? I’m hungry and these grapes aren’t cutting it, I’m afraid.”

Louis shakes his head. “No idea. I’m surprised she’s not in the kitchen cooking right now. Might be ordering in, to be honest. We could ask.”

“Yeah, you should ask.”

“By _we_ I mean _you_ because if I ask, she’ll take my head off. If _you_ ask you’ll delve into an hour long conversation and she’ll tell you what we’re eating for dinner,” Louis says slowly, looking at Harry expectantly.

“Please do not make me ask,” Harry begs, his expression dropping to pure terror. “I wouldn’t want her to think I’m only here to— to eat her food, Louis. Please.”

“Oh, relax, babe. I won’t make you. We can still go sit out there with all of them, though, enjoy this nice weather.” Louis suggests, standing up as he pops one last grape in his mouth. “You’re sure you’re good?”

Harry hums. “Fine. Just don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“Alright. Keep up those contractions to avoid drawing any attention to yourself and we’ll be good to go. And we’ll keep the tat wrapped while you’re out in the sun. When we come back inside I’ll unwrap it and do the ointment and wrap it up again since it’s pretty big and we wanna give it time to heal.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Louis grabs Harry’s hand as they walk out to the back deck, where Jay and her husband, Dan, are sitting up top with the little twins. The four girls are down in the yard kicking a ball around, yelling and laughing.

“Oh, I’m going to get in on that. You coming?” Louis says immediately, dropping Harry’s hand without a second thought. Harry shakes his head in reply to the offer. He can hardly walk without tripping, with a footie he’ll be absolute garbage. “Okay, babe. Cheer me on from up here, then.”

“I will, Lou,” Harry smiles at him.

With that, Louis takes off down the stairs and charges right for Phoebe, who currently has possession of the ball. Harry can’t help the smile that comes onto and _stays_ on his face while he watches Louis play. “He loves it,” Jay says suddenly. “Footie. Having a kickaround with the girls. He loves that, even if he says they drive him nuts.”

“I know he does. And they don’t really drive him nuts, trust me. He loves them all to death,” Harry assures, putting his back to the yard and leaning against the railing to face her.   
“Plays footie like a madman. He hoped Ernie would get into it, too, but it doesn’t appear he’s got the gene.” Jay looks at Ernest, who’s working his way across the deck to Harry.

Harry looks down at the small child at his side, bending down to his height. Ernest smiles widely at him immediately, which makes Harry feel really fucking good. “You don’t like playing footie, do you?” he coos, poking Ernie in the belly and making him laugh. “Lou would _love_ if you played with him every so often. Maybe do me a favor and play with him sometimes?”

 _"Achoo_ never wins!” Ernest says enthusiastically, laughing.

Harry tilts his head to the side. “ _Achoo?”_

Jay laughs. “That’s what they call Louis. When they were super little and they’d be sick, they were the worst patients ever. Whenever one of them sneezed, Louis always fake-sneezed really loud and made them laugh, and they kind of just started calling him _Achoo.”_

Harry’s heart positively _aches_ when Jay shares that story with him. It’s possibly the cutest, most heartwarming thing Harry’s ever heard and it definitely makes Harry see Louis in a whole new light; and he didn’t even know there was _more_ light to see Louis in. He’s been getting to know Louis in so many different ways recently, and he wouldn’t trade any of these stories for the world.

“That’s adorable,” Harry says softly, looking away from Ernest and down to the yard, where Louis’ in hot pursuit of Fizzy with the ball.

“Do you want kids, Harry?” Jay asks.

“Oh, Jay, don’t ask him that.” Dan says scoldingly. “Leave the boy alone for one second, for God’s sake.”

“I’m just wondering! Making conversation, that’s all. He doesn’t answer it if he really doesn’t want to.”

Harry hadn’t prepared for that question. Louis had prepared him for every intrusive question his mother might have asked, every question _except_ for this one. But he feels like he can handle it, so he takes a deep breath. “I mean, yeah. I’ve thought about it. We’ve never talked about it, but, uh… yeah, I would want kids, at some point,” he says honestly. It’s the complete truth, perhaps one of the one full-truths he’s told since he got here with Louis yesterday.

Harry has thought about having kids, has thought about having kids of his own ever since he was on Olympus. But on Olympus having kids is different than having kids as a mortal. Mortal children are so fragile, so vulnerable, as opposed to the child of a God who is practically untouchable. Harry’s only thought about it a handful of times; absently when walking through the supermarket and seeing a mother with a child or watching a pregnant woman on a television show with Louis. But he has thought about it, those passing instances have been accompanied by thoughts of having his own kids at some point in time. It’s honest, the full and unfiltered truth, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“See? Harmless question,” Jay says pointedly. “Am I allowed to ask him what he wants to order in for dinner or is that question too intrusive for your liking, honey?”

“I think he can handle that question just fine, sweetheart.” Dan bites back. Harry steals a glance at both of them, seeing big smiles on their faces.

Ernest winds a hand in Harry’s hair, not pulling, just messing around with his curls, and Harry lets it happen. “I’m good with whatever.” he tells Jay, grabbing Ernie by the wrist so he doesn’t start to pull.

“Pizza, then? And, love, don’t feel obligated to let him pull your hair. He does that sometimes. Lou’s used to be pretty long and he’d make a big comedy show out of Ernie pulling his hair so now he thinks it’s okay to do with anyone that comes along.”

“It’s fine. The hair thing and pizza. I’m not picky.” Harry says, another full-fledged truth.

“Can you call it in, then?” Jay asks, looking to Dan. “Lou will still want jalapeños, so make sure you get a pie with them.”

“Alright, I’m going to go order pizzas. Want me to take him off your hands?” Dan looks down at Harry and Ernest, who is now trying to climb up on Harry’s lap.

“Nah, it’s cool. I like being shown attention,” Harry grins, scooping Ernest up in his arms and turning them to look down at the Tomlinson children playing in the yard.

“I wanna be picked up, too!” Doris exclaims, tugging on Harry’s leg.

Harry looks down at her, considering for a moment. He sets both the twins on the railing, an arm wrapped around each one of them. Louis scores a goal and Harry wolf whistles jokingly, making Ernest and Doris both try to whistle as well.

Louis turns to look up at the deck where Harry and the twins are perched. He stops dead in his tracks, smile creeping onto his face at the sight up on the deck. Louis lifts a hand and waves, a look of admiration and disbelief on his face. Harry waves back at him, puckering his lips in an air kiss.

“I wanna play,” Ernest says decidedly. _“_ _Achoo_ never wins.”

Harry helps him off the railing and without waiting, Ernest is down the steps and onto the grass, much to Louis’ enjoyment. “I don’t suppose you want to go play too, do you?”

Doris shakes her head, leaning against Harry’s chest and starting to swing her legs, heels knocking against the wooden slates of the deck. “Wanna stay with you.”

“That’s cool, too. Footie’s not really my thing either.”

Doris doesn’t answer, instead starts humming a made up tune to herself. After maybe five minutes of sitting and watching the girls and Louis and Ernest play in the yard, Doris declares her boredom and demands Harry take her down.

After she’s run off, Jay hums from behind him, and Harry turns around to face her again. “You’re good with them. Really good.”

Harry shrugs. “Kids just like me. And they’re brilliant, yours make it easy,” Harry replies, smiling.

Harry and Jay make small talk while Louis plays with his siblings in the yard until Dan eventually calls from inside that the pizza has just arrived. Louis lets the girls run up their stairs first, Jay holding the glass door open for them, Louis coming up the stairs last.

His cheeks are flushed pink from all the running, hair sticking to his

forehead just slightly. “Hi, baby,” Louis greets, kissing Harry’s cheek.

“You need a shower,” Harry makes a face, reaching up and pushing Louis’ hair back from his face. “I didn’t realize your sisters could give you such a run for your money.”

“I’m not that bad.” Louis frowns. “D’you know if my mum got me jalapeños? I _love_ jalapeños on pizza.”

“Yes, your mommy did get you jalapeños.” Harry says teasingly, sticking his bottom lip out.

Louis leans forward and kisses him. “Mhm…” Harry murmurs, Louis’ tongue dipping into his mouth. “Your mum— Louis.”

He pulls back, licking his lips. “Let’s go have some pizza, yeah?” Louis asks.

“You’ll eat and then you’ll shower. Get washed up now and you’ll finish the job later,” Jay says, ruffling Louis’ hair on his way in the door. “Disgusting. The girls aren’t sweating like this, you know.”

“Well, that’s probably because they’re _girls._ And also because they lost. Just weren’t exerting enough energy.” Louis says cockily, leaving Harry by the table to go wash his hands.

“Here, love, have a seat.” Jay says, putting a box of pizza in the middle of the table that the girls dive over immediately.

“Babe, you want a beer?” Louis calls from the fridge. “It’s Coronas, you like that one, yeah?”

“Sure, thank you.” Harry answers. He reaches into the pizza box and snags two jalapeño slices for Louis before his sisters get their hands on _all_ the pizza.

Louis comes and sits down next to him, placing a bottle of beer in front of Harry’s place. “Why do you have two slices? You don’t even like jalapeños.” Louis points out, frowning at Harry’s plate.

“I grabbed them for you. Your sisters were going after the pie too, I decided to grab a few for you. Can you grab me one with cheese?”

Louis nods. Harry places the two slices on Louis’ plate while Louis grabs a plain cheese slice and puts it on Harry’s plate. “Thanks, bub.” Louis smiles at him, taking a big bite of his pizza.

“Yeah, you’d better eat up. Worked up an appetite out there,” Jay teases.  

“I think you’d be happy I’m being active.” Louis retorts. Harry glances over at him, and Louis’ already halfway through his jalapeño slice. “You know, Harry and I are going to a yoga class next week.”

Lottie’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “A _yoga_ class?”

“Yeah, Harry’s into it and he talked me into coming to a class with him.” Louis explains simply, shrugging.

“And you just… agreed to go?” Lottie asks, sounding disbelieving.

“It was a fight,” Harry steps in, looking over at her. “He didn’t want to come, but I’m making him. You’re excited though, aren’t you?”

“Only because after yoga you’re supposed to come with Liam and I to a boxing class,” Louis answers quickly. He rips the crust of his pizza in half, giving Harry half of it. Harry rips his own slice in half and does the same.

“That was… weird.” Fizzy says slowly, pointing between Harry and Louis.

“Oh, shut up.” Louis scowls. “Let us eat our pizza in peace. There’s a routine.”

“Leave him alone, Fiz.” Jay says, tone warning, as she shoots Fizzy a look.

Harry finishes his own slice and Louis’ crust, washing it down with a few big gulps of his Corona. “Want another slice, H?” Louis asks lowly, taking a sip of his own beer.

Harry shakes his head. “I’ll eat your crust if you don’t want it.”

Louis nods. Then he takes another big bite of pizza and washes it down with a sip of beer and goes back to chatting with his mum and sisters. Harry listens to it, doesn’t say much except for what there’s a slight jab taken at him by Louis or one of the Tomlinson's address him directly. He doesn’t mind, likes listening to them talk and argue and laugh. It’s so different than the dinners he would have on Olympus, Harry kind of just wants to bask in it.

“Better get all this cleaned up.” Jay says finally, after the girls have finished and run off for the most part.

“Let me help,” Harry offers immediately, standing up and grabbing his and Louis’ plates. “You’re done, right?”

Louis looks up at him, nodding. “Yeah, love. Thank you.”

Harry brings both of their plates to the kitchen, dumping the napkins and remaining pieces of crust into the trash before setting them both in the sink. Jay adds a few more, and Harry turns the sink on to start washing them. “Oh, no, honey. I’ll make one of the girls wash the dishes, you don’t have to.” Jay says, putting a hand on Harry’s back.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine, really,” Harry assures her, putting one of the plates in the drying rack. “I can handle a few chores.”

The kitchen clears out as Harry washes. Louis comes in and puts their empty beers in the recycling bin, taking another two from the fridge and opening them both, tossing the caps into the garbage before coming and leaning against the counter beside the sink. “You’re knockin’ the socks off me mum,” Louis notes, beer bottle poised to his lips.

“I’m just being myself.” Harry shrugs, shutting the sink off and reaching for the hand towel.

Louis hands him the Corona as soon as his hands are dry. “That’s exactly it. You’re being all charming and pretty and washing dishes even when she insists you don’t have to.”

“I’m… making myself useful, that’s all. Doing what I’d do if we were at home.”

Louis uses his free hand to put a hand on Harry’s hip and pull him closer, so they’re flush against the counter together. “It’s sweet. I like watching it. Seeing you… pull out all the stops to impress my mum,” Louis says, licking his lips.

Harry brings his beer to his mouth an in attempt to distract himself from how badly he wants to kiss Louis senseless in the middle of his mother’s kitchen. “I just want her to like me,” he says after he’s swallowed, and goes to take another sip.

Louis kisses him before Harry gets the chance to drink his beer again. Harry pulls back sooner than he would normally like to, making Louis frown. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because we’re in your mum’s kitchen and your sisters are around and you still smell like soccer,” Harry explains.

“Oh, my God.” Louis groans, rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. “You know I hate when you call it _soccer_ instead of _football.”_

“I know, I’m sorry.” Harry laughs softly, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. “I forget sometimes, get them confused.”

Louis pecks him gently. “I’ll go take _another_ shower, since I’m that unbearable. Think you can hold your own with my family for, like, a half hour?”

Harry holds his own just fine. He talks to Jay and the girls, makes them laugh and answers any of their questions with surprising ease. Louis comes down a little over a half hour later, while Doris is sitting on Harry’s lap making a mess of his curls. Louis plops down on the couch next to him, laughing softly at the sight. He pokes Doris in the belly, making her laugh, and kisses Harry on the cheek.

“What’re you doing to my Harry?” Louis asks, voice pitched higher than normal.

“I like his hair!” Doris says gleefully, twisting strands of Harry’s hair in her tiny hand.

“Yeah, me too.” Louis smiles. “But maybe give it a rest for a few? It only gets this pretty and luscious without little hands in it.”

Doris frowns, her hands dropping from Harry’s head. “Your hair, then?”

Louis shakes his head and grabs her little hand before it can reach his own head. They keep entertaining Doris until she inevitably gets bored and climbs off of Harry’s lap. Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder as soon as his lap is free, slouching one of his legs over Harry’s knee. “You’re scarily good with children,” Louis says softly, fingers tracing gently over Harry’s thigh.

“I told your mum before that these ones are easy.” Harry replies, his eyes trained on Ernest and Doris while they make noise in the play kitchen.

“Ah, that seems to be a common trait in us Tomlinson’s. We’re all just easy.” Louis laughs softly.

“Yeah, I guess you are,” Harry hums, nodding.

Louis pinches him on the thigh in retaliation. “Oh, shut up.”

“It’s the truth. Everyone should know it. This just in: the entire Tomlinson family is _easy.”_ Harry says through soft laughs, Louis pinching him harder halfway through his sentence. “Stop pinching me, you menace.”

“Louis William, I can hear you being a pest.” Jay says from across the room. “All this _leave my boyfriend alone_ crap and you can’t even leave him alone yourself.”

“Yeah, emphasis on _my_ boyfriend. Mine. I get to not leave him alone, you don’t get to tell me to leave him alone.” Louis says defensively, looking up at Harry with bright eyes. “I’m gonna go grab another beer, do you want one?”

Harry shakes his head, watching Louis as he stands up. Louis disappears into the kitchen, and Harry finds himself watching the doorway, waiting for him to pop out again. Louis does, but Lottie catches him and starts a petty war of snide remarks, which of _course_ Louis can’t _not_ fire back in. He stands there, a beer in his hand and the other on his hip, the bottom of his joggers tucked into his socks, arguing passionately with his sister about something Harry can’t quite make out.

Lottie finally walks off with an eye roll and a playful jab to Louis’ shoulder, and Louis comes back to the couch. He plops down again, this time throwing both feet into Harry’s lap. “How about one of those patent-pending foot massages?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re so demanding.”

“Yeah, you love that,” Louis says under his breath, his finger gesturing towards Harry’s neck.

Harry swats his hand away before bringing it back down to Louis’ right foot. “Lou, are you getting a foot massage right now?” Jay asks, sounding disbelieving.

“Yes I am, mum. Unfortunately Harry’s services are only available to me, however. You can’t… pay…” Louis trails off, like he regrets the sentence as soon as he starts it, and he _should._

Jay just glares at him, though, doesn’t verbally scold him. “I’ll have a fun conversation with her at some point this weekend,” Louis says lowly. “But you do give really good foot massages, I’ve gotta pay you back somehow.”

“Oh, shut it,” Harry laughs.

 

Later, in bed, Louis doesn’t try to pay Harry back for the foot massage. Instead, he props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Harry. “Do you want to talk about your mum at all? Calliope?”

“Is it weird if I… substitute your mum for my own?” Harry asks, staring past Louis and up at the ceiling.

“I mean… I guess not. It’s weird, a bit, but. Like I said, she likes, you know, _being_ mum.” Louis shrugs one shoulder. “So I’ll take that as a no? You don’t want to talk about Calliope?”

“Not right now, if that’s okay. Have you ever smoked weed?” Harry asks randomly, finally looking at Louis.

Louis laughs out loud, hand coming up to brush Harry’s cheek absently. “Yeah, all the time.”

“I’ve never seen you,” Harry notes.

“I kind of… I met you and I cut myself off for a bit. Didn’t know how you felt about it or knew about it and whatnot.” Louis says honestly. Harry grabs his hand and kisses it. “Are you asking about it because… you want to try?”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve heard about it, you know? Seen it in some of those shows you make me watch and heard Zayn talk about it. And I never have, obviously, and if you’re going to teach me things, why can’t that be one of the things you teach me?”

“Well, now that I know you’re down, the second we get home we’re calling Zayn and we’re going to smoke the place out.” Louis says, bending down and kissing Harry gently.

In the morning, Harry and Louis wake up to Lottie knocking gently on the door. “Are you in need of any hickey remedies?” she asks softly.

Louis throws a pillow towards the door, groaning. “Go away.”

“Do you need my services or no?”

“No, Lottie. Go _away.”_

“We’re going out to lunch at noon, you’re going to have to be up otherwise mum’s gonna freak out on you,” Lottie singsongs.

Louis groans again, turning and burying his face in Harry’s neck as Lottie shuts the door. Harry tries to get comfy again, but he’s awake now. He shifts, trying to sit up, but Louis grunts and tightens his grip around Harry’s waist. “Don’t move.” he murmurs, lips pressed flush against Harry’s neck. To the untrained ear, that might have sounded like gibberish, but Harry’s gotten pretty good at decoding it.

“I can’t fall asleep again,” Harry says, voice low.

“You hardly even tried.”

“I did try, and it didn’t work. Your sister barged in here asking about hickies and I can’t fall back asleep. She’s very worried about our hickies.”

“I can give her more hickies to worry about,” Louis says, opening his mouth against Harry’s skin. Harry pulls back as far as he can, making Louis whine. “C’mon, you never let me have any fun.”

Harry hums, laughing. “I promised you last night you can get me high for the first time when we go home, isn’t that fun?”

“That’s fun-fun, I want sexy fun.”

“No, not now.” Harry laughs. “Get off my arm, you’re cutting my circulation off. Got mortal arms now, they need to feel things.”

Louis shifts, lifting his weight off of Harry’s arm as best he can. His eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling, his face still pressed against the pillow. “Can you wear your headband today?” Louis asks, voice still low and raspy.

Harry laughs. He moves his newly-freed arm up to Louis’ head, thumb stroking the hair above Louis’ ear. “The headband isn’t really lunch with your mum attire.”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll make you wear it later, then.” Louis says indignantly, finally opening his eyes to look at Harry. He hums happily as soon as his eyes are open. “I should’ve done that a lot sooner. You look pretty in the morning.”

“You’re sappy in the morning.” Harry retorts. “We should get up otherwise we’re going to be fighting for the bathroom with all of your sisters.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” Louis rolls all the way over onto his back, his right arm finally sliding off Harry’s waist. “We should get a move on.”

It takes another few minutes for them to actually get out of bed. Harry is the one that gets up first, dragging Louis to his feet. Louis’ arms immediately go around Harry’s waist, pulling them flush together, and presses a kiss to Harry’s chest. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” Harry replies.

“C’mon, let’s get to the bathroom.”

Louis and Harry get washed up side-by-side. Halfway through, while Harry’s got toothpaste dribbling down his chin from laughing at something Louis was saying, Lottie appears in the doorway.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. This is going to take a long time, isn’t it?” She groans, already turning to walk away.

Louis bumps Harry out of the way with his hip, spitting into the sink. “No, Lots. Almost done. Give us another minute.”

Harry spits and rinses out his mouth, splashing his wet hands at Louis playfully. “All yours,” he smiles at Lottie, slipping behind her and heading back to Louis’ bedroom.

“She adores you,” Louis says when he shuts the bedroom door. “Lottie. She loves you.”

“Olympus made me feel like I was suffocating.” Harry blurts, turning around to face him. “It felt like they were sucking all the air, all the life out of me. I was suffocating. Then I came here and I just… I met you and it was my first breath of air in so fucking long. You brought me home to your _family_ and I feel like I’m breathing the cleanest, purest air I’ve ever had.”

Louis smiles, eyes crinkling at the corner. “I’m glad. I don’t know what made you say that now, but… I’m glad you said it.”

“Okay.” Harry breathes. “Now that I have that off my chest, lets get ready for lunch.”

Louis finishes before Harry, of course he does, because he can just throw outfits together and look good but Harry’s new to all of this; the colors and the clothing and everything, so it takes a bit more thought for him. Louis kisses his cheek and heads out of the room.

Harry ventures downstairs a few minutes later, his shoes in his hand. He drops the shoes by the door and walks to the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when he hears Louis and his mother talking in the kitchen. “He wore that shirt of yours all day yesterday,” Jay is saying, sounding like she’s teasing him just a bit. “I hadn’t seen that thing in years.”

Louis laughs. “He likes it. I liked seeing him wear it.”

Eavesdropping is wrong, Harry tries to convince himself, he should just make his presence known. But Harry can’t make his feet move. “I can’t believe it took you so long to bring him home.”

“There were… other factors to consider. I wanted to wait for him to be ready, with his parents and everything. But I’m… I’m glad I did. I love him a lot.”

After this, Harry finally steps into the kitchen. Louis looks up at him immediately, saying, “Hey, H,” extra loud so his mother gets the hint to stop talking.

“Hi. Are we almost ready to go?”

“Waiting on the girls,” Jay answers. “It’s a toss-up as to how long it’ll take, but I should probably be rushing them along now anyway.”

She squeezes Louis’ shoulder on her way out of the room. As soon as she’s gone, Louis motions Harry to come in closer. “What?” Harry asks, leaning against the table.

“I want a proper kiss. Didn’t get one this morning.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he bends down and kisses him anyway. Louis’ the one that tries to make it dirty, with a hand on Harry’s jaw to keep him in place. Harry breaks apart the second he gets a chance, standing up straight again. Louis’ already pouting at him. “Stop trying to snog me in your mum’s kitchen!” Harry exclaims, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“As soon as we’re home you’re getting the snog of your fucking life, Styles, purely to make up for cockblocking us all weekend.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, if that’ll make you feel better.”

“It’ll make me feel worlds better, Harold. You have _no_ idea.” Louis grins, dragging Harry back down for one more quick kiss.

As Harry stands up again, Daisy and Phoebe both come into the kitchen. Louis greets them with a smile and jumps into their normal banter routine without much hesitation. Harry, on the other hand, needs a minute to collect himself and brush off the remnants of Louis that always seem to distract him before he can speak to Louis’ family.

“Any idea where we’re going to eat?” Louis asks, looking at his sisters expectantly. “I’m famished.”

“Um, think it’s like a steakhouse type thing? I’m not sure but mum was going on and on about it.” Phoebe replies, sliding her phone in her back pocket.

“Oh, a steakhouse? Bougie.” Louis muses, standing up. “Dan coming along as well?”

“He’s at work. Mum doesn’t work until tonight, so that’s why we’re doing lunch,” Daisy answers. “Mum wanted us to go wait in the car.”

Louis stands up, looking quickly between his sisters. “Last person in the car loses!” he exclaims. Daisy and Phoebe immediately take off running, but Louis stops to grab the car keys off the counter, winking at Harry before he rushes out the door.

Harry watches from the kitchen window while Louis unlocks only the driver’s side door and gets in, shutting it and locking it with a shit eating grin on his face. Daisy and Phoebe go around to his side and start banging on the window, saying things Harry can’t make out. Harry slips his shoes on and heads out to the car himself.

Louis lights up when he sees Harry come out. He glances at his sisters before motioning Harry closer to the car. As soon as he’s standing by the passenger side door, Louis leans across the console and the passenger seat and opens Harry’s door from the inside. Daisy and Phoebe light up and start to make their way over, so Harry moves quickly to get in and lock the door behind him.

Daisy and Phoebe both groan so loudly Harry can hear it through the window. Harry looks over at Louis, almost breathless, smile on his face. Louis’ smiling at him the same way, a little more fond before his eyes than Harry’s is pure joy. “We could drive away and never come back,” Louis says, putting the keys in the ignition. The radio starts playing, _Still the One_ by Shania Twain — one of the songs Louis has had on repeat for Harry recently — by all odds the song on the radio is one Harry _actually_ knows. “ _Or_ we can just sit here and sing songs at the tops of our lungs.”

Harry nods immediately, smiling widely. “We could do that.”

They belt the chorus, blasting it at full volume over the car speakers, with Daisy and Phoebe — and eventually Lottie and Fizzy before the song is over — rolling their eyes outside the car. Jay appears in the doorway with the little twins in tow. She comes over to Louis’ side, knocking on the window with a disappointed look in her eye.

Still singing, Louis unlocks all the doors and nods towards Harry, signaling to get out of the car. They both crawl into the third row, Louis falling in after Harry and landing surprisingly gently against Harry’s chest. “ _I’m so glad we made it, look how far we’ve come, my baby,”_ Louis sings the closing line of the song, his hand resting softly against Harry’s cheek as he gazes up at him.

As the song fades out, Louis leans up and presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s mouth, his hand coming around the back of Harry’s neck and press him in harder. “Hey, alright.” Fizzy groans, dropping down into the third seat next to Louis. “I know Shania’s always been a thing for you, Lou, and it’s great that Harry has the same love for the love ballads as you do, but I don’t want to see it.”

Louis sits up straight, “accidentally” elbowing Fizzy in the ribs on his way up. Harry watches as Louis catches his mother’s eye in the mirror, and expects her to yell at him, but instead she just smiles and starts the car.  

Lunch at the restaurant is loud. Even in public, the Tomlinson’s are _loud._ They’re talking and laughing and joking the entire time. Harry, like usual, doesn’t say much, instead just listening and drinking it all in. Louis keeps on eating off of Harry’s plate, which of course Harry doesn’t complain about, just takes food off of Louis’ plate as payback. Back at home, Louis drags Harry onto the couch, so Harry’s sitting with his back to Louis’ front, while he plays Fifa with Fizzy.

She gives up after a while — complaining about Louis being unfair and competitive — and Louis starts a solo game. Harry sighs, his head coming back to rest against Louis’ chest. “You okay?” Louis asks quietly, his fingers still flying over the controller. Harry nods, turning and pressing a kiss to the side of Louis’ neck for good measure. “How’s that tattoo healing?”

“Good. Starting to get itchy, but you said that was normal.”

“Yeah, just don’t itch it.”

They stop talking again after that. Jay hollers a goodbye as she leaves for work, promising she’ll be back before twelve, and that’s it aside from the chatter coming from the game on the TV. _I want to do this for the rest of my life. This is what I picked,_ Harry thinks to himself, a satisfied smile coming onto his face.

“You do?” Louis asks, laughing softly. “That’s good to know, months after the fact.”

“Fuck, I was talking out loud.” Harry curses, burying his face in his hands. Of course he was, he’s such an idiot, can’t keep things to himself.

Louis takes one hand off of his controller to pull Harry’s hands away from his face. “Don’t do that. It’s sweet. And I… shit, I want to do this for the rest of my life, too. I never thought I’d have that happen to me.”

Harry makes a questioning sound, tilting his head to look at him. “Lou.” he says lowly.

“Nah, no. Don’t do any of that pity shit. I’m glad I found it. Glad it’s with you.”

“Aw. Maybe you’re not _only_ sweet to me when you get to get me off.” Harry coos. “You’re sweet to me when you play Fifa, too.”

“Could never not be sweet to you.” Louis says softly, honestly. “Always gonna work to be sweet and kind to you.”

“Ugh, that’s a little too much,” Harry groans jokingly.

Louis laughs. He turns the TV off mid-game, not even saving anything or checking the stats and scores of something, just shuts the TV off and lets his arms relax around Harry. “You’re right, that was a lot. Especially for me. So, back to your big rose tattoo,” Louis says, fingertips tracing gently around the tattoo.

“What about it?”

“Well, I can’t believe you actually got it, for starters. I also can’t believe you let _me_ give it to you. And I wanna make sure it’s healing properly, my work and all.”

“It’s healing fine. It just itches, like I said. I like the way it looks here.” Harry admits. “I want more. Lots of them, I think.”

“Well, we’ll get as many as you want whenever you want, okay? You handle the pain like a champ, it’s kinda hot.” Louis murmurs, his fingers now coming up Harry’s arm.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve said that before.” Harry laughs. “Stop trying to rile me up. I already promised we’d make up for it at home, didn’t I?”

Louis presses a kiss to the side of Harry’s head, for so long that Harry can feel him smiling against him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Harry murmurs. “Teach me Fifa?”

Louis nods, turning the TV back on and using his foot to pull the controller to the edge of the table so Harry can reach forward and grab it. “You know the basics, yeah? I’ll go easy on you.”

They play for awhile, until Lottie comes downstairs and enters the living room with three beers in her hands, setting two of them on the coffee table and sitting beside Louis and Harry with the third. “Still playing this shit?” Lottie asks, tossing the cap to her beer on the table. “Wait. How’s Harry beating you?”

“He’s just getting better, that’s all,” Louis says simply, shrugging one shoulder. “What’re you doing drinking a beer?”

“Oh, shut up.” Lottie rolls her eyes.

“Can you — shit, fuck, Harry you _suck_ — can you open ours?”

Lottie groans softly, reaching forward and grabbing the two beers, cracking them both open and sitting patiently, waiting. Louis pauses the game, taking both beers from her and placing one of them in Harry’s hand. “Mum’s super happy you guys came home this weekend,” Lottie notes, sitting back against the couch again.

“Yeah, I know, she tells me every chance she gets,” Louis replies.

“I’m kinda pissed about it, because now anybody I bring home has to match up next to Harry’s standards. And Fiz already has an advantage because sometimes she brings home _girls,_ who are so easy when it comes to winning mum over. Any guy I bring home is going to have to be as good as Harry.” Lottie complains, looking over at the two of them.

“Sorry, I’m so great I just put everyone else to shame,” Harry sighs. He takes a sip of his beer while Louis chuckles, and Lottie rolls her eyes yet again. “Louis forgets the jackpot he’s hit sometimes.”

“Oi, I most definitely do not.” Louis gasps. “Can I play this again or are you over it?”

“Mhm… Think I’m over it.” Harry says.

They sit on the couch with Lottie and chat for a bit longer. Then they head upstairs to pack their things so they’re ready to leave tomorrow morning, but end up taking a break halfway through when Louis finds he can’t keep his lips off of Harry’s. “I refuse to— to need to ask your sister for her… services in covering up hickies again.” Harry mumbles, trying to break apart for long enough to get the sentence out without an interruption but coming up mostly unsuccessful. “Try to keep them below the neckline this time?”

Louis grunts, pulling the collar of Harry’s shirt down and sucking his collarbone, hard, like he’s trying to prove a point. “You can mark me up.” Louis says. “I don’t give a shit what my mum has to say about them.”

“Really.” Harry deadpans, looking up at him with an eyebrow pitched upward. “So you wouldn’t mind if I…” Harry trails off, pulling Louis down closer and placing his lips on his neck.

Louis groans softly, his breath fanning across the side of Harry’s face. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says softly, his head lolling against Harry’s. “Don’t mind at all, actually.”

“Have I gotten better with them?” Harry asks, kissing over the red blooming on the side of Louis’ neck.

“So much better.” Louis says, sounding breathless. “You can— another, if you want.”

“Kind of sounds like I’m about to make you ruin your pants,” Harry muses, moving his mouth to the hinge of Louis’ jaw.

“I can take them off, if that’ll make it easier,” Louis offers.

“Lock the door.” Harry says, letting his head fall back against the mattress.

“What happened to no getting off in my mum’s house?” Louis asks. He rushes to lock the door and get back into bed, straddling Harry’s hips and undoing his pants.

“Your mum isn’t here. Stop talking about your family now before I second guess myself.” Harry tells him, palming Louis through his boxers. “I like how much hickies get you going.”

“They clearly get you going, too, don’t forget that.” Louis bites back. He opens his mouth to talk again, but Harry squeezes gently around Louis’ cock, effectively shutting him up.

“Yeah, but this gets you going, too,” Harry murmurs. “When I touch you here. Isn’t it crazy that a few months ago I didn’t even know what I was doing? Now I’m the only one who can get you like this.”

“You being all seductive and commanding is kinda hot. Usually that doesn’t do anything for me but…”

“It’s working?” Harry asks softly.

“It’s so, so working. You have no idea.”

_i could recognize him by_  
_touch alone, by smell; i would_  
_know him blind, by the way his_  
_breaths came and his feet struck_  
_the earth. i would know him in_  
_death, at the end of the world._

“Harry,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “Harry, um. Stop trying to cook and turn around and look at me?”

“Louis, I’m trying to engrain these songs into my mind and also attempting to make pasta _and_ chicken _and_ vegetables. I don’t have time to turn around and look at you.”

“You’re gonna want to turn around and look at me,” Louis says. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, turning the burner down on the stovetop before turning around to face Louis. Who is on one knee. Who is on one knee in the middle of their kitchen holding a small box with a gold ring inside. “Louis.”

“Babe, you shouldn’t even be that surprised by this, what with me being your prophecy and all.” Louis says disapprovingly, shooting Harry a shut-the-fuck-up look. “The second I met you in the club, when you didn’t contract any of your words and seemed like you’d never been out in public in your life, I knew that I’d never be able to let you go. Then you told me all about you, who you are, where you were from, and for some reason that didn’t make me run for the hills. I’ve run from a lot of guys for reasons a lot smaller than the thing you had. Baby, I love you. And I wouldn’t trade you for the world. You gave up _everything_ for me and I’m still trying to figure out how to do the same for you. This is a step. Because I— I never thought I’d be here, Harry. And then I met you and I pictured everything falling into place. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, learning something new and having a new adventure every single day. Marry me, Harry. You absolute mess and ball of light and I want to spend everyday for the rest of our time with you.”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Louis, oh my _god._ I wasn’t expecting you to do this _now_ , holy shit!” Harry exclaims, stepping closer to Louis and pulling him to his feet, kissing his square on the mouth. “God, you had a speech and everything! You almost made me cry!”

“Shit, _almost?_ Do I need to say more to get you to cry?”

“No, no. Just put the ring on my finger, please.” Harry begs, holding up his left hand for Louis.

Louis kisses him while he slides the ring onto Harry’s finger, smiling against him. “I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs, hand coming up to Harry’s cheek.

“I love you too. We’re getting married.”

Louis nods. Harry’s left hand lands on Louis’ neck. “When you touch my skin I can feel the ring. Feels surreal.” Louis says. “You’re forgetting about dinner.”

“Like I give a shit about dinner now, Louis!” Harry cries. “I’m gonna get full and drunk on _you_ for the rest of our lives. God, I never thought I’d get to say that. The _rest of my life.”_

“C’mon, finish making dinner, baby.” Louis coaxes, turning Harry back to the stove. “We need a proper dinner to celebrate. Fuck, I should’ve got champagne or something.”

“It’s okay. We have beer and wine and tequila. We can pretend,” Harry says. “Can you grab the strainer?”

Louis moves to the lower cabinet and takes the strainer out, placing it in the sink and leaning against the counter. “Watching you cook is so sexy. I’m so glad you’re getting the hang of it. You’ve even got your scarf thing on to hold back your hair, you know that’s a thing for me,” Louis muses, arms folded over his chest. “The only thing that would make it better is if you were shirtless right now.”

“Cooking shirtless would be a bit of a hazard, I think.” Harry says thoughtfully. He dumps the pasta into the strainer and while it sits, he turns the burner off on the chicken and the vegetables. “Are you ever going to shut up about how the headband is a thing for you? I really only do it to keep my hair out of my face now that it’s growing again.”

“Nope, never. You’re gonna have to keep hearing me talk about it for the _rest of our lives.”_ Louis says dramatically, tilting his head back. Harry flicks the base of his throat, making Louis yelp. “If this dinner is shit am I supposed to tell you or just pretend that it’s good?”

Harry hums, considering. He moves the pasta from the strainer to a serving bowl, then takes the olive oil from the cabinet. “Just tell me.” he says decidedly. “The only way I can get better is with feedback. Can you set the table?”

“Of course, love.” Louis says happily, kissing Harry’s cheek on his way to the cabinet.

Five minutes later, they’re sat at the little round table in the corner of the kitchen, Harry’s meal spread out in front of them. Harry serves it up, a big pile of pasta on Louis’ plate. “I don’t wanna get married in a church,” Harry says through a mouthful of pasta. “I don’t know if you’re religious or anything, but I don’t wanna get married in a church.”

“You’re the child of the greek God Apollo and Calliope. I didn’t expect you to want to get married in a church,” Louis says. “We can get married wherever the hell you want. Anything you want, you can have.”

Harry smiles at him. “I don’t know where I want to get married. But honeymooning, that’s a thing, right? I think we should go to Greece.”

Louis perks up, setting his fork down. “Really? Because I was going to suggest that, but I wasn’t sure if, like, it’d be weird for you or something. Go be around all that ancient history that you grew up in and left behind.”

“No, I— uh, I want to go there. Share it with you. I can tell you everything the tour guide leaves out.”

“Greece it is. We’ll look into Greece as soon as we clean up dinner.” Louis says, smiling.

“No. After dinner we’re abandoning the dishes and going to have hot, long, engaged sex.” Harry corrects.

“Is it bad I’m already _just_ about ready to abandon dinner and go upstairs?” Louis asks. “I know you worked super hard on it, but there’s always leftovers and you just look so fucking hot and you’re wearing the ring that I got you and I just—”

Harry leans over and kisses him, just to shut him up. Louis groans against him, reaching out to touch Harry wherever he possibly can. “Upstairs, now.” Louis mumbles. “Fuck the food, wanna fuck you.”

“Um. I wanted— can I fuck you?”

Louis groans again, louder than last time and Harry’s not even _doing_ anything to him. “Fucking hell, Harry. Yes, you can fuck me. Want that so bad, know you’ll be good for me.”

Harry nods eagerly, pulling Louis to his feet and crashing their lips together. “Wanna make it good for you. You’re gonna have to— have to tell me what to do.”

“Of course, of course. Anything you do will be good for me, but I’ll walk you through it,” Louis says, turning and starting to pull Harry down the hall towards the bedroom, lips still pressing against Harry’s intermittently. “Gonna be so fucking good. Like this for the rest of our lives,” he mumbles.

“Shut the door. Shut the—” Harry gets cut off by Louis ramming his back to the door. Harry groans. _"F_ _uck_ me.”

“Not today, love. We’re going the other way today,” Louis muses, kissing down Harry’s neck. “It’s gonna so fucking good. Mind blowing. Earth shattering.”

“You really like having a dick up your arse, don’t you?”

Louis hums, starting to suck a mark by the column of Harry’s throat. “Mhm. I like having _your_ dick up my arse,” he says.

Harry moans softly. “Okay, tell me what to do, then.”

  


Harry comes back from the bathroom to Louis still laying in the bed, breathing finally returning to normal. “Are you okay?” Harry asks softly, sitting at the edge of his side of the bed.

Louis nods, reaching a hand over to lightly scratch Harry’s back. “Just… recovering. That sure as hell did not feel like your first time fucking someone. I forget how I get when I do that, that’s all. Just need a minute to realign.”

“It was… good, then?”

“Harold, you just gave me the fuck of my life. And it was your first time doing that. And it was still fucking incredible. You did such a good job. So fucking good for me.” Louis says, sounding further away with every word.

“Take a nap.” Harry whispers, standing up again. “I’m gonna go clean up dinner and then I’m gonna come back and we can go again, if you want.”

“We can go again, but you’re not fucking me again. I’m eating you out for an hour at minimum.” Louis’ eyes fall closed, and he takes a deep breath in.

“Hope that’s a promise,” Harry sings.

He shuts the door only halfway on his way out of the room. In the kitchen, Harry puts the remains of their meal into the Tupperware containers and makes them fit in the fridge before starting to wash the pots. Harry grabs a bottle of red wine from the corner of the counter and heads back in to Louis, who’s still asleep.

Harry uncorks the already-opened wine and gets into bed as softly as he can, settling back against the headboard and taking a sip from the bottle. He looks down at Louis and at the TV, and the remote is too far away. Louis’ laptop is on the nightstand on Harry’s side. Harry reaches for it, careful not to spill the wine, and settles it on his lap. While grabbing the charger, which is precariously balanced on the slightly-opened drawer, Harry remembers what’s in that drawer. He opens the drawer a bit more, reaching in and taking out the gold crown from his mother. It’s the only thing of Olympus he has left, the only thing they haven’t taken from them.

With a sigh, Harry tosses the crown towards the end of the bed where it lands with a soft thud. He takes another long sip from the wine, opening the laptop and pulling up Netflix. He sighs, settling on _Grey’s Anatomy_ to continue watching. He drinks from the bottle of wine and watches Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd fall in love until Harry falls asleep.

 

Harry wakes up again to the light on Louis’ side of the bed turned on and Louis talking quietly on the phone, pacing. Harry watches him for a moment, walking back and forth across the room wearing one of Harry’s sweatshirts and a pair of boxers, a smile on his face. He tries to listen to Louis’ conversation, but he can’t really make anything out. Maybe he’s just tired or maybe Louis’ just talking too softly.

Louis’ eyes land on him finally, and he looks shocked. “Shit, mum, I gotta go, okay? I love you… yeah, I’ll keep you updated. Love you, too.” he abruptly ends the phone call, tossing his phone back onto the bed. “Did I wake you?”

Harry shakes his head, stretching his arms up. “No. You should’ve woken me up, we were supposed to have a round two.”

“Ah, the night is still young.”

“That was your mum?” Harry asks. His eyes follow Louis as he sits cross-legged at the end of the bed.

“Yeah. I had to tell her that I’d finally popped the question. She’s been sitting on her hands for ages trying not to say anything to you whenever we were on Skype.” Louis replies. “Um. How come the crown is out?”

“I only looked at it for a second,” Harry says truthfully. “It was in the drawer and it caught my eye and then I just… tossed it there.”

“It’s all you have left, yeah?” Louis asks, voice soft. He reaches a hand out and grabs the crown, looking at it carefully. “The only thing they didn’t take.”

“Yeah, I thought the exact same thing.” Harry replies. “It’s weird, I dunno. I don’t want to get rid of it, but I also don’t want to think about it.”

“Tell you what. We’ll put it in a box in the closet and you don’t have to think about it anymore,” Louis suggests. “We can do it as soon as we go for a round two.”

Harry nods in agreement. “That sounds like a plan. I do remember you say something about eating me out for an hour at minimum and I’d like to cash that coupon in now, please.”

“Can cash that coupon in everyday for the rest of our lives,” Louis says, surging forward and kissing Harry, bringing him back against the mattress.

  


Harry and Louis get married on a Saturday afternoon — nowhere near a church. Louis’ entire family is there, and so are their friends. On this day, Harry trades his family on Olympus for a new family, one with Louis. On this day, Calliope and Apollo can no longer touch him. On this day, Harry does not regret a thing. On this day all he feels is love and peace and happiness and Harry knows there will never come a day where he doesn’t feel that.

When he wakes up in Greece, Harry doesn’t feel anything but _light._ Louis is already up, standing on the balcony smoking a cigarette with the doors open and the white curtains blowing in the breeze. “You smoke in Greece too?” Harry rasps, sitting up.

Louis turns around to look at him. “My one for the day.”

“Ah, in Greece you only have one,” Harry muses, laughing softly.

“How’d you sleep? Feeling jet lagged at all?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, not at all. Are you?”

“Nope. Feel great. Excited to explore today and hear you nerd-out over Greece,” Louis grins, putting out his cigarette and leaving it in the ashtray on the table. “I’m super excited.”

“I am too. We should get a move on, the day is wasting.”

“Baby, you just woke up. And aren’t you going on about how time isn’t real and whatever? In Greece do you live by clocks?”

“In Greece I live by the sun. And I live by you.” Harry says softly, making Louis roll his eyes. “That didn’t even make sense, I know. But I mean it.”

“Alright, let’s get a move on. Living by the sun and whatnot. Let’s put that outdoor shower to good use,” Louis winks, offering Harry his hand to pull him up from the bed.

As they walk around, Harry explains the different stories they hear and the monuments they see. He gives Louis all the details, everything a tour guide or information station leaves out. He connects the stories to his own life and it feels like just that — _stories._ It hardly feels like anything about the greek Gods and the tales of Olympus that everyone in Greece is chasing down in myths and in places around the cities. Harry doesn’t feel like it’s something he lived through. It doesn’t feel like something he suffered under for so, so long before finally breaking free.

“Hey, you good?” Louis asks, sliding his hand in Harry’s as they stand in front of the Parthenon while the sun sets.

Harry frees his hand and lifts the camera, snapping one of Louis — who rolls his eyes — before answering. “I’m good. It’s beautiful here.”

“Feel like home?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not at all. Home is here now, with you.”

“We should travel. As much as we can, don’t you think?” Louis suggests.

Harry looks over at him, smiling. “I’d love that. I’ve been places, but only with my father or my grandfather and the trips were never for fun.”

“You’ve _been places?”_ Louis scoffs. “Okay, Styles.”

“Yeah. Random places, nothing ever super exciting. And none of them with a cute boy,” Harry replies.

“That cute boy is now your husband, address him properly, please. And he’d love to go places with you.”

“Well, he’s the only one I ever want to travel with.” Harry says decidedly. He points up at the parthenon, glancing at Louis. “You heard the tour guide, right?”

“Built for Athena.” Louis fills in, shrugging.

“Named for one of her epithets, Athena Parthenos, which means virgin. It had other names up until about the 4th century BC, and everyone agreed to call it the Parthenon,” Harry says.

“Hm.” Louis hums thoughtfully. “The tour guide left a lot of that out, I think.”

“Athena loved this place. She talked about it all the time; a temple in Greece all in her name.” Harry sighs. “All the Gods loved whatever stories and monuments the people made for them, they never shut up about them. I never wanted anything like that, as much as my mother wanted me to have something.”

“Of course you didn’t want anything like that.” Louis answers. They start walking again, further away from the landmark.

“I’m glad you brought us to Greece,” Harry says, adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. “I love it here.”

Louis stops short, turning to look at Harry with a big smile on his face. “I love it, too. Love you. Think it’ll be good to kiss you right here? Can your ancestors, like, see even more because of where we are?”

Harry laughs, head thrown back. “I don’t know if it works—”

Louis cuts Harry off by kissing him, slow and open mouthed and as soon as they’re touching, the world around Harry absolutely fades away. They’re not standing in Greece, they’re not surrounded by tourists and great art. It’s just Harry and Louis, alone together, like this for the rest of their days. It’s an image and a feeling and a _life_ Harry would not trade for anything. No gold and glamour and gore that lies on Olympus would make Harry want to spend the rest rest of his life up there instead of with Louis.

 _**he is half of my soul,  
** _ _**as the poets say.** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading!!! this quickly became a monster and i hate that it did but i also love it. please feel free to leave comments and kudos, they boost my ego and make me feel really really good about myself and my writing they truly make my day :')  
> come yell at me on:  
> twitter: allgonnamakeit_  
> tumblr: alwaysbearound


End file.
